


Finding Home for Christmas

by DraconisWing24441



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Idiots in Love, Jeannie plays matchmaker, M/M, Military Background, Second Chances, long lost lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2019-10-05 22:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 54,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17333960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DraconisWing24441/pseuds/DraconisWing24441
Summary: John and Rodney both hate Christmas, but for different reasons. Rodney has spent twenty years working on his research. John has spent the same twenty years in the USAF. When John gets a letter from a young Madison Miller wishing him a white Christmas while in Afghanistan, something compels him to write back. Soon, an accident ends up sending John to the States for the Christmas holiday and he winds up going to see Madison. To his surprise, his ex-boyfriend, Rodney, is the girl's uncle. Jeannie and her daughter decide they're going to play matchmaker and, with a little Christmas magic, they just might succeed in getting these two back together in time to enjoy the day at last.





	1. Chapter 1

A young girl sits at a desk in a classroom filled with fifteen other young boys and girls seated at desks, and chews on the end of her pencil as she thinks about what to write.  Her classmates are all working on the same project as her teacher stops by to talk to each one.  She looks up at the chalkboard, at the flag hanging next to it, then out the window as snow starts to fall and inspiration strikes.  Her pencil races across the paper, her lips moving silently as she writes.

 

_Dear Mr. Soldier,_

_Thank you for protecting our country.  My name’s Madison and I’m in 3 rd grade.  What’s your name?  Miss Emmagan, my teacher, says that soldiers are heroes and that’s why we’re writing.  Do you get scared?  What do you do when you get scared?  How long have you been away from home?  Mommy says that lots of soldiers don’t get to come home for Christmas and I think that’s sad._

 

* * *

 

“Mail call!”

Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard made a face, knowing there was nothing in there for him, and kept working.  He tried to be grateful for the momentary distraction but it didn’t work.  Paperwork sucked, especially around the holidays, when all sorts of requests were made.  Time off for Christmas or New Years’ for those who had families—especially with little kids—were typically approved if possible.  And there were plenty of those.  But that meant that John had to figure out how to restructure things while they were gone until the new batch of red shirts came in.

_Fwap!_

John leaned back in his chair and quirked an eyebrow at the bright red envelope that had just landed on his partially filled out form.  It was the only spot of bright color in the room.  It was a small room, just big enough to fit two filing cabinets, a wood desk, and a chair, with one window on the left wall showing the activity outside.  No embellishments.  Nothing to indicate John had anything or anyone waiting for him across the ocean.  Out in the camp, men and women in desert BDUs moved across the sandy ground while Humvees and tanks and Jeeps drove past at all hours, kicking up clouds of sand.  John could hear the occasional shouted command but for the most part, sound didn’t reach his tiny little office.  What little John could see of the sky—if he craned his neck—would show the pinks and yellows that indicated sunset approaching.  What he wouldn’t give to be up there right now….it would be one hell of a view.

Biting back a sigh, he looked up at the grinning soldier in front of him and flicked the corner of the envelope.  “Holland.  What is this?”

“Mail, sir.”  Captain Lyle Holland stood at attention in John’s doorway, a handful of colorful envelopes in one hand.  A red and white Santa hat perched on his head, the bright color at odds with the olive drab BDUs he wore.

“I can see that,” John responded, lips twitching at the incongruous image before him.  “Why is it on my desk?”

Holland’s grin widened.  “Received a bunch of ‘em from Letters to the Troops.  APO gave them to me, said everybody gets one!  This one’s yours.  Merry Christmas, Colonel!”

“You do know that Christmas is still about four weeks away, right, Captain?”

Holland shrugged, the white ball of his Santa hat swinging.  “So?  I’m not going anywhere so I figure why not get into the spirit of things a bit early?  Don’t be such a downer, sir.”

Amused, John shook his head.  “Go spread Christmas cheer somewhere else, then, Captain.  I’m not in the mood.”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Holland saluted and ducked out the door. 

After he left, John stared at the red envelope, trying to figure out what to do with it.  Letters to the Troops, huh?  He shoved it to the side after a bit.  Maybe he’d read it later, when he had nothing to do and couldn’t sleep.

 

* * *

 

“You imbecile!  If I had wanted to route the power through the auxiliary supply, I would have told you to do it that way!  Now I’ve got fried hardware and it’s going to be next to impossible to get the testing done in time!”

“Come now, Rodney.  Is not as bad as all that.”

Dr. Rodney McKay glowered at the head of his Research & Development team.  The floor designated for R & D was normally one of Rodney’s favorite floors to be on.  Top of the line equipment in every room.  Exclusive access to anything he wanted.  The best scientists in the country.  And yet . . . the acrid stench of burned computer parts still filled the air.  “Do you have _any_ idea what he just did?  Radek, he just destroyed two months of work!  Two months of work that I now have to redo in less than a week!  All because he thought he knew better!  No.  No, he _thought_.   He is not here to think.  Why is he here?  I don’t remember hiring him.”  Rodney rounded on the unfortunate fellow.  “Who are you again?  Are you new here?”

The scientist bristled.  “I am Dr. Peter Kavanagh.  I’ve worked here for eight years.”

Rodney blinked.  “Eight….eight years?  Really?”  He turned to Radek who was over by the burned computers, attempting to ascertain if any of it was salvageable.  This room in particular was one of the three used for Rodney’s special projects, projects that won him government contracts and funds.  “How have I never met him before now?”

Radek straightened, pushing his glasses up his nose.  The smell had lessened a bit, thanks to the excellent ventilation system he’d had installed years ago after they nearly burned down the building when an experiment went wrong.  “Rodney, you were there when we interviewed him.  You have worked with him many, many times over the years.”

“You’re kidding.  I would surely remember working with such incompetence.”  Rodney shot Kavanagh a glare.  Standing in the middle of the room, Kavanagh returned it, apparently oblivious to the mess that lay around them.

“Rodney….” Radek shook his head tiredly.

“Doesn’t matter,” Rodney said crisply.  He snatched up the folder with the now tainted and useless results and turned away.  “You’re fired.”

“What?” Kavanagh sputtered.  “You—you can’t do that!”

Stopping in the doorway, Rodney turned back and said, “Well, if I hired you, I’m certain I can fire you.  Besides, I’m sure you’ve noticed whose name is on the building, yes?  Or are you stupider than I thought?”

“But—but my work!  And what am I supposed to do for a job?  It’s so close to the holidays, no one’s going to be hiring.”

Rodney shrugged, dismissing the question.  “Not my problem.  Radek, meet me later to discuss what our next steps should be.  I’ll be on the phone all afternoon, trying to find replacements for the equipment he just ruined.”

“Yes, Rodney,” Radek said.

Rodney strode through the white corridors and into the steel colored elevator, stabbing the button for his office absently, his mind already racing through suppliers, reconfiguring timetables, replacing whatshisname, the overtime that was going to be involved, not to mention all the other projects and deadlines he had in the works…..he didn’t have _time_ for this, dammit!  He was going to be spending all his time here until the meeting.  Stalking down the hall, he barely noticed his assistant diving behind her desk as he slammed the door to his office shut, threw the folder onto his desk, and dropped into his chair.  He glowered at the blinking light on his phone then leaned his head back and closed his eyes. 

Rodney liked his office.  It calmed him when the idiots who claimed to be the best infuriated him.  Pale blue walls, bookcases full of scientific periodicals, a window that overlooked the city, it all worked to balance the overwrought corporate-ness of the oak desk, file cabinets, and ephemera that came with running one’s own company.  He had a nice TARDIS paperweight, a couple _Star Trek_ original series posters on the walls.  Pictures of him with his family and friends—well, okay, acquaintances, really—were on a shelf along with a couple souvenirs from his trips and research.  The souvenirs, though, were there to remind Rodney _why_ he did what he did, despite the annoyances.  He loved to experiment, to play with the natural order of things, to create better ways to do something…..to find out _what if_?  And Rodney hired those who also aspired to find out _what if_?  It was the best part about being a scientist, even if there were some _what ifs_ that Rodney refused to acknowledge.

Having sufficiently calmed down, Rodney reached out and hit the blinking voicemail button on his phone.  He tapped in his password and waited.

_Beep._   “Mr. McKay, this is Colonel Caldwell.  This is the third tim—”

“Doctor,” Rodney corrected with a scowl at the phone, “it’s _Doctor_ McKay, you Neanderthal.”

“—each you.  I can’t tell if you’re busy or just avoiding me but we need to meet.  It’s about the designs I asked you for.  Call my office ASAP.”

Rodney debated whether or not to delete it and the next one started before he could do anything, effectively saving it.   _Beep_.

“Hi, Dr. McKay.  My name is Brenda Carlson and I work for Channel 7 News.  I was hoping to schedule a time for an interv—”

He deleted that one.

_Beep_.

“Meredith, this is your sister.  Stop avoiding my calls or I’m showing up at your office in person and we both know how that will go.”

Rodney sighed heavily, rolling his eyes.  Always with the dramatics, his sister.

“Look, I want you to come spend the holidays with us.  Madison misses her uncle; it’s been ages since you came to visit.  And you really shouldn’t be alone for Christmas; don’t even try to tell me you won’t be.  We both know better.  And I’m not letting you use the _I’m busy_ excuse.  Not this year.  Call me.  Soon.  Or I’m making an unexpected visit.  Bye.”

_Beep._   The little automated voice came on saying, “End of messages.”

Only three voicemails?  That was a welcome surprise.  He’d have to call Jeannie back later; Rodney had no doubt whatsoever that she would show up and humiliate him in front of his employees.  As for Caldwell……he hit the intercom button and called, “Dana, get in here!”

His door creaked open and a young brunette wearing a pink dress ducked in, a notebook clutched to her chest.  “Yes, Dr. McKay?”

“Remind me to call my sister later.  And can you call, oh, whatshisname, Fredericks, and get him to send me the latest reports for that—” he stopped, snapping his fingers to try and remember what the project was called.  Giving up, he finished, “that thing for Colonel Caldwell.  He’ll know what I mean.”

“Yes, sir.”  She scribbled furiously.

“And get me some coffee.  None of that instant crap.  I want real coffee.  And keep it coming.”

“Right away, sir.”  Dana left as quickly as she’d arrived.

He tugged the folder he’d rescued from R&D towards him.  He could already feel the beginnings of a headache.  It was going to be a long afternoon.

 

* * *

 

John rolled his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his muscles, and checked his watch.  It was later than he’d thought, almost 2200.  _Time to hit the sack_ , he thought and shoved his chair back.  He snagged his jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged it on as he walked to the door.  Pushing it open, a gust of cool air flew in and blew a pile of papers onto the floor.

John groaned and crouched down to pick them up.  Now he’d have to reorganize them.  Something stabbed his finger and he swore, sucking on the tip of a finger.  He looked to see what had poked him and saw that red envelope Holland had given him earlier.  Damn thing.  He picked it up and dumped the haphazard pile of papers back on the desk but something stopped him before he left the office.

Maybe it was the fact that the writing looked too sloppy for an adult or maybe it was Holland’s Christmas spirit but John found himself reaching for his knife to slit it open.  Inside was a folded piece of paper.  He tugged it out, dropped the envelope on the desk, and unfolded it.  Big blocky handwriting greeted him and a smile tugged at his lips despite how tired he was.  John sat back down in his chair, reading the letter.

 

_Dear Mr. Soldier,_

_Thank you for protecting our country.  My name’s Madison and I’m in 3 rd grade.  What’s your name?  Miss Emmagan, my teacher, says that soldiers are heroes and that’s why we’re writing.  Do you get scared?  What do you do when you get scared?  How long have you been away from home?  Mommy says that lots of soldiers don’t get to come home for Christmas and I think that’s sad._

_Will you have Christmas there?  I hope you do.  I hope there’s snow.  I don’t think it could ever really be Christmas without snow.  I could send you a Christmas present if you like.  Do you like Christmas?  I love Christmas and making cookies with my mom and making snowmen and decorating the tree._

_I hope you stay safe and get to come home soon._

_Thank you for what you do._

_Love,_

_Madison_

 

John read the letter through twice, hearing the innocence in the girl’s words.  He reached for the envelope, finding a return address in the corner and considered.

Eh, what would be the harm in replying, right?

John reached out to snag a blank paper and pen, writing out an answer to Madison’s questions. 

 

_Dear Madison,_

_I received your letter and it made me smile so thank you._

_My name is Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard but you can just call me John.  I wouldn’t call myself a hero.  I fight for those who can’t or won’t but I’m not sure if that makes me brave or stupid.  There are times I get scared, but that’s when we are at our bravest.  Doing what scares you makes you stronger, Madison.  It’s hard, and it can be absolutely terrifying, but if you really want to do it, fight the fear.  You never know what you can do until you try._

_I’ve been away from home for so long, I’m not sure I remember what a snowy Christmas looks like.  All I have out where I am is sand.  Not really Christmas-y._

 

* * *

 

“I wish I could be home for Christmas but I’m among friends here and that’s good enough for me,” Madison read aloud to herself, curled up on her pink and green bedspread.  “I don’t really have a home to go to anyway but that’s okay.  Don’t worry about me.  I hope you have a wonderful Christmas, Madison, and thank you again for your letter.  John.”

She looked out her window, catching sight of the snow drifting lazily down in the glow of the moon.  It wasn’t right that they didn’t get snow for Christmas! she thought with a small frown.  Snow was a very important part of Christmas, Madison knew that.  After all, how else would Santa fly around the world?

If John didn’t have snow, did Santa not come to him?  Madison’s mouth made an O as a thought came to her.  She would send him snow!  She knew how to make paper snowflakes; she and Mommy did it all the time for decorations.  She would send John snow and then he would feel better about not being able to go home for Christmas.


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and enjoying the first chapter! Here's the next one!

“Hey, Colonel, got a letter addressed to you,” Captain Holland said, his head poking around the door.

John shoved the filing cabinet closed and turned around.  “Think you read that wrong, Captain.  Nobody’s going to write to me.”   _Not in this lifetime, anyway_ , he amended the thought.  

Holland came all the way in and John’s breath caught as he saw the red envelope in his hands.  “It’s got your name and rank on here, sir.  From someone named Madison Miller.  You know a Madison Miller, Colonel?”

_She wrote back._   John couldn’t believe it.  His arm stretched out, taking the envelope from the soldier and lifting the corner to break the adhesive seal.  Tugging the letter out, he realized he was actually looking forward to reading her letter.  He unfolded it and something white cascaded out, falling to the ground.  “What the—?”

“Uh, sir, are those……snowflakes?”

John bent down and picked one up.  He chuckled.  She sent him snow.  He picked them up with a small smile, dropping them on the desk, and confirmed, “They are indeed paper snowflakes.”  John spread them out across his desk, remembering how he and his mom used to make their own decorations for the little tree in the library.  That one had been theirs to decorate because only they would see it.  As a kid, that was what had stuck out the most in all his memories—appearance mattered.  What you did in public, what your friends or coworkers saw…. _that_ was more important than anything.  Even— _especially—_ what you wanted.

“Who would send you paper snowflakes?  Sir.”

John looked up, startled.  He’d forgotten Holland was there.  “Ah, it’s that letter—from Letters to the Troops?  About a week ago?  I wrote the kid back and,” he laughed a little, “well, it looks like she decided to give me a white Christmas.”

Holland grinned.  “Awww, that’s sweet, Colonel.  You gonna hang ‘em up?  Be nice for the CO to get in on the holiday spirit….” he nudged.

John gave him a dubious look.  “I don’t think so.  Not exactly to code, are they?  Now go on, get outta here.  Don’t you have a mission to prep for?”

Holland shrugged.  “It’s just a routine transpo.  No big.  Still got a couple days before we leave.  Hey, you coming to karaoke tonight?”

“No.  I don’t sing.  But you go; have fun.”  John sat down, pulling Madison’s letter over.  “Now get out.”

“Yessir.”

The door clicked shut behind the captain and John settled in to see what Madison had to say this time.

 

_Dear Colonel John,_

_Mommy says I shouldn’t use your first name because it’s rude but she also said I shouldn’t use your title, least not your full title.  So I hope this is okay._

_It’s not Christmas without snow.  That’s what Mommy says and I agree.  I don’t think it’s fair that you don’t have snow so I sent you some._

_I’m sorry you don’t have a home to go to but maybe you could come to mine!  We could have a white Christmas and make snowmen and make cookies and decorate the tree and see Santa_ _!_  John chuckled at her excitement, wondering if he’d ever been that excited about the holiday.

_Merry Christmas, Colonel John!_

_Love,_

_Madison Miller_

_P.S. Come visit me!_

 

Underneath that postscript was a crayon drawing of a two story house, a little blonde girl he assumed was Madison, a woman with blonde hair, and three men, one who must be her father, one in green and brown that he assumed was him but he couldn’t figure who the third man was.  _Cute_ , he thought.

John enjoyed his little pen pal relationship with her, embraced the reminders that not everything was pain and fighting and disappointment.  If there was anyone who could remind him of what the holiday season was supposed to mean, John was sure it would be this kid.

Maybe one day he would find her and meet her.

But not this Christmas.

 

* * *

 

"This is going to work.”  Rodney paced the length of the waiting room and back again, glaring at the pale yellow walls, at the potted plants, at the blue and gray patterned carpet.  “There’s no need to panic because this is going to work.  We’ve done all the tests, all the science checks out.  It’s exactly what they want so there’s no reason for them to not go with our design.”  He stopped and turned to Radek, worry written all over his features.  “This is going to work, right?”

From his seat on the dark brown leather couch, Radek resettled the folder in his lap, pushed his glasses up and said in a reassuring tone, “Rodney.  It will be fine.  As you said, we have done everything we could and we have been working with Colonel Caldwell for years.  Just because he has other companies coming in does not mean he won’t still choose ours.  Stop worrying.  And stop pacing; is giving me a headache.”

Rodney scowled at him but flopped down next to him on the couch with a _harrumph_ and crossed his arms.

“I thought that was you I saw through the window, McKay.”

Rodney bit back a growl then twisted in his seat to see the newcomer.  “Carter.  Jackson.  What are you two doing here?”

Samantha Carter smiled at him as she and Daniel Jackson walked into the waiting room.  “Same thing you are, I believe.”

“Oh, this is just not fair.  You shouldn’t even be in the running!”

Daniel lifted an eyebrow.  “Why not?  Sam’s a scientist, just like you.  She still needs government funding.”

“Because—because,” Rodney spluttered, standing now, “because she _married_ into the military!  The odds are unfairly stacked in her favor!”

Samantha rolled her eyes and walked over to the reception desk.  “Relax, Rodney.  I didn’t get the call for this project because of Jack.”  She checked in with the receptionist and turned around.  “And besides, shouldn’t you be more concerned about your own project?  I heard you had quite the lab accident last week.”

Rodney blinked, then intensified his glare.  “What are you talking about?  Nothing happened,” he bluffed, crossing his arms.  He tried really hard not to glance at Radek, knowing that would be a dead giveaway.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Daniel shake his head and sit on the other couch.

Sam tilted her head.  “Oh.  Well, I’m glad to hear that.  Peter was very concerned when he brought it up.  I’m glad to hear everything’s okay.”

Rodney’s heart stopped and this time he did look at Radek, who looked as concerned at this news as Rodney felt.  “P—Peter?  As in Peter Kavanagh?”

“Uh huh.”  Sam joined Daniel on the couch, setting her folder on the coffee table.  “He was a recent addition to my team.  Lucky to get him, actually.”

Rodney gaped at them, frantically trying to figure out what to say.  If she hired Kavanagh and she knew about the fried computers then that meant she knew about their experiments……oh god, what else did she know?  What did Kavanagh tell her?  Rodney wondered if he was going to have to get his lawyers involved because he really hated dealing with lawyers and then there was the detail of time and a half because it was Christmas time and oh shit this could not be happening, not now.  The questions were on the tip of his tongue but thankfully someone called his name.

“Drs. McKay and Zelenka?”

He turned, pathetically grateful for the interruption.  “Yes?”

A woman in the blues of the USAF gestured down a hall.  “They’re ready for you now.  If you’ll just follow me…?”

 

* * *

 

The next bit of mail that John received was not in a bright red envelope and it did not contain a letter from an eight-year-old girl who thought it was sad that his Christmas wouldn’t have snow.  It came in an innocuous blank white envelope that contained the key to his future.

The sounds of the base hospital filled the air as nurses and corpsmen worked to help the injured.  John’s attention, though, kept straying to the one body in the tent that wasn’t injured but still took up one of the beds.  Captain Lyle Holland’s body lay under a white sheet not far from where John lay in his own bed, with his own injuries.

His fault.

It was his damn fault that Holland was dead.

John’s eyes burned but he resolutely blinked the threat of tears away.  He was a soldier, damn it!  And the guilt was well deserved.  John embraced the guilt, let it weigh on him as it should.  He should have been able to save Holland, should have been able to get them both back to safety.

Instead, John had managed to steal a chopper and rescue Holland from enemy territory, only to be shot down by a mortar he’d never seen coming.  Stranded in the middle of the desert, trying to keep them safe and make the radio work, John had been forced to watch his friend and comrade bleed out before his eyes, knowing that what he was doing wasn’t enough, that nothing he could do would be enough to save Lyle.

Dragging his gaze away, John took a shaky breath and refocused on the envelope in his lap.  It looked so harmless, and yet….and yet, he knew it wasn’t.  He was pretty sure he knew what was in it, knew the brass had already heard about his little escapade.  Still….it was harder than he’d thought, taking that envelope in hand.  Harder still to slit it open and pull out the folded piece of paper inside.  John schooled his expression, making sure that it was as neutral as he could manage right then, and unfolded it.

 

_Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard,_

_Your presence is hereby requested in Washington, D.C. immediately for debrief and investigation into your recent actions._

_Thank you,_

_Corporal Anne Simmons_

_Secretary to General Landry, USAF_

 

_Shit.  Fuck.  Fuck fuck FUCK!_

John’s head fell back onto the pillow and he closed his eyes.  Well that did not bode well.  If they court martialed him . . . . . .

If that was their decision, John had absolutely no idea what he was going to do with his life.

 

* * *

 

“I’m taking my laptop with me and I want daily updates, minimum.  Nothing is too big or too small to contact me.  Got it?  Email me, call me, text me, hell send a fucking carrier pigeon—just keep me in the loop, understood?  There is too much at stake here to let anything fall through the cracks.”  Rodney leaned on his suitcase, trying to get it shut long enough to zip it up. 

“Yes, Rodney.  I will keep you in the loop.  Have I ever not?”  Radek rolled his eyes on the other end of the video call.

Rodney finally got the zipper to move and glared at his colleague and friend through the computer screen.  “I mean it, Radek.  The only reason I’m leaving is because my sister might well kill me if I don’t come over for Christmas.  Otherwise—”

“Otherwise,” Radek spoke over him, “you would still be in lab, yelling at workers.  Yes.  I know.  Trust me, they appreciate you going as much as Jeannie will.”

Rodney glared at him again then sighed.  “Look, I just really want to get this contract with them, Radek.  We could really use it.”

Radek nodded.  “I know, Rodney.  I will make sure everything goes as it should.  Promise.”  He flapped his hands at the screen.  “Now go.  Have good Christmas.  Say hi to Jeannie for me.”

Rodney dragged his suitcase off the bed and leaned over the laptop.  “I will.  Keep in touch.  Bye, Radek.”

“Bye, Rodney.  And remember to relax!”

Rodney ended the call, the scowl back on his face.  He knew Radek didn’t quite understand why Rodney was determined to get this new contract at all costs but he really didn’t want to go into the reasons why.  Hell, he hated working with the military.  All those rules and regulations and—it was enough to drive him mad!

But there _was_ a reason.  His technology kept people safe.  Kept . . . . him . . . safe.  As far as Rodney knew, anyway.

Rodney took a breath and slammed his laptop shut, tucking it under his arm as he dragged his suitcase out of the bedroom.  He had a three hour drive ahead of him.  No need to think about the past.  What was done was done and nothing would change it.


	3. Chapter Three

John sat in a plastic chair in an otherwise empty hallway, the urge to fidget nearly overwhelming.  His palms rested on his thighs, his fingers curled around his knees.  The tension had his back ramrod straight and muscles tight.  The dress blues he wore felt stiff and uncomfortable, though he knew he looked good in them.  His gaze was locked on the beige wall directly opposite him.  About six inches to the right of his gaze was a door and the sounds of angry voices could be just heard through the wood.

It took everything he had to stay still and wait for the people on the other side of that door to decide his future with the armed forces.

The door banged open, startling him, but he regained his composure almost immediately.  An older man in a similar blue uniform to the one John wore stepped out, leaving the door slightly open.  He straightened his jacket, took a breath, then turned and saw John.  “Ah, Lieutenant Colonel Sheppard?”

John jumped to his feet, saluted, then stood at attention.  He figured by the book was his best bet to saving his career at the moment.  “Sir, yes, sir!”

The man came to stand in front of John and now John saw the stars: three on each shoulder.  A general.  Not just any general, either.  A Lieutenant General.  Shit.  There was a pause as the general studied John then he held out a hand.  “Lieutenant General Jack O’Neill.  I heard what you did.”

John shook O’Neill’s hand but didn’t say anything.

O’Neill suddenly grinned and leaned in.  “I’ve been where you are right now, Sheppard, and trust me, I’m on your side.  No man left behind is something I believe in wholeheartedly.  You did a good thing out there, Sheppard.  Did what I could for you.”

John blinked.  “Uh, thank you, sir.”

O’Neill nodded and started down the hall.  “Don’t forget your cover,” he tossed over his shoulder before shoving his hands in his pockets and rounding the corner.

Another soldier stepped out the door, her gaze landing on him.  “We’re ready for you, Colonel.”

John snatched his cover, settled it on his head, took a deep breath and followed her in.

 

* * *

 

John stood in the middle of the airport, scanning signs to figure out where exactly his gate was.  It had been a long, long time since he’d flown commercial and he was not looking forward to it.  He eventually figured out where he was supposed to go—with a little assistance from an employee who had apparently noticed how lost he was—and made it to the gate with a few minutes to spare. 

He handed over his ticket and boarding pass to the employee at the gate, walked onto the plane, stowed his duffel and suitcase overhead and dropped into the seat.  Thankfully he’d gotten a window seat and leaned over to see the runway.  A little bit of familiarity to settle his nerves.

People were everywhere, talking, arguing, shouting, stowing bags and suitcases, kids screaming…..

“Hi there!  Looks like we’re seatmates.”

John startled at the bright voice and turned to see an older couple settling into the seats next to him.  “Hi.”

She smiled at him after she’d sat down.  “I’m Bridget.  This is my husband, Mark.”

“John.” 

“You look nervous.  First time flying?”  Her husband settled into the seat along the aisle with a low groan.

John gave a half-shrug.  “First time flying commercial in a long time.  Not used to it.”

The older man leaned around his wife and asked, “How do you normally fly?”

“Ah,” John made a face and rubbed the back of his neck, shooting a quick glance out the window, “I’ve been flying helos overseas for . . . . a—a number of years now.”

Mark nodded knowingly.  “Military.  I understand.  Got to get used to being a civilian again.  I’ve been there.  It takes a while but as long as you got people around you who care, you’ll be fine.”

“You served?”

Mark puffed out his chest.  “Navy.  World War II.  Just like my pops before me and my sons serving now.”

Bridget took hold of her husband’s arm and asked John, “What branch are you in?”

“Air Force.”  The “buckle seatbelt” light came on and John busied himself with that.  Thankfully, there wasn’t time to ask more questions as the flight attendants came out to do the “In Case of Emergency” speech then they were taxiing down the runway.  John’s face was nearly plastered to the window, watching the asphalt speed past, feeling that thrum in his chest.  The tension in his muscles released with that thrum.  If he closed his eyes, he could almost feel like he was piloting.  Then they were in the air and the captain was telling them, “It is now safe to move about the cabin."

“So,” Bridget started up again and John bit back a sigh.  Just what he needed—chatty neighbors.  “Are you heading home for the holidays, John?”

“Something like that.”  John patted his jeans pocket, feeling the letters from Madison inside.  He still wasn’t sure about this but he needed to do something with his time off. 

“Bridge, let him be.  Can’t you see he’s nervous enough about flying?  Here, why don’t you pick a movie to watch?” Mark interjected with a wink John’s way.

John smiled briefly, grateful for the rescue.  He shifted, getting a little more comfortable, and watched the clouds fly by below them, trying to calm his stomach.  As the plane winged its way north, John’s thoughts drifted back to his brief, yet tense, conversation with General Landry after General O’Neill had left.

 

_"Alright, Sheppard, so here’s where things stand,” General Landry had said after motioning for John to sit down.  “I’ve half a mind to discharge you for that stunt you pulled.”_

_John winced inwardly._

_Landry leaned back in his chair and continued, “But it seems your reasoning for taking the action you did has not fallen on deaf ears.  There are a fair few who would like to award you for what you did.”_

_John blinked, startled at that.  “Sir?”_

_Landry fixed him with a firm stare.  “I am not one of them.  Fortunately for you,” he continued before John’s hopes could fall too far, “Lt. Gen. O’Neill seems to like you.  Or at least, what you did.  So you have two options: take a demotion down to Major and a reassignment to a place as yet undetermined.  Or, take an early retirement.  You have until December 26 th to decide.  Dismissed.”  Landry picked up his pen and a pile of papers, shuffling through them and signing every now and then._

_John simply stared at him for a moment, before shoving to his feet and exiting.  As the door swung shut behind him, John felt the walls start to close in on him and leaned his forehead against the nearest solid vertical surface, breathing fast.  His palms pressed flat against the wall, holding him up as he struggled to understand what had just happened in that room._

_Demotion or retirement, those were his only options?_

_Okay, so court martial hadn’t been one of them but still . . . ._

_Echoing footsteps drew his attention and he quickly straightened, starting down the hall before he could run into anyone else._

 

John drew in a slow, deep breath and firmly shoved that interaction out of his mind.  He’d worked his ass off to get to his current rank and thinking about losing it was not going to make him feel any better.  Besides, he had two weeks to figure it out.  No problem, right?

In the meantime, he was going to meet this kid then find a place that absolutely did not remind him of Afghanistan, in any way, shape or form.

The plane landed without a hitch, a light snow starting to come down but it wasn’t really sticking to the runway.  John snagged his bags from the overhead container, escaped the older couple as soon as he could, and got off the plane before they could decide to ask him more about his holiday plans.  He then spent a few minutes dithering about getting a cab over renting a car, eventually deciding on a rental since he’d be staying the night at the very least.  Waiting in line, John pulled up Google Maps on his cell and pulled out one of the envelopes to tap in the address.  Alright, no problem.  She lived a little over an hour from the airport.  He booked a hotel room for the night as well; just out of town so he didn’t have to drive far in case the snow fell harder.

“Do you have an opinion over the type of car you want to rent?” the teen at the desk asked in a bored tone of voice, not looking up from his computer screen.

John shook his head.  “So long as it takes me from point A to point B without sending me off the road, I’m good.”

“We have a Jeep Grand Cherokee in the lot.  Will that work?”

“That’s fine.”

“How long do you want it?”

He figured maybe a day or two but….. “Three days,” John answered, to be safe.

“Name?”

“John Sheppard.”

The teen tapped on his keyboard then clicked a few times, printing something.  “How did you want to pay for it?”

John dug out his wallet.  “You take VISA?”

The teen rolled his eyes and took the card from him.  “We take all forms of payment, sir.”

John gave the kid a frown but handed over his card and minutes later he was tossing his bags into the backseat of his rental car.  He took a minute to set up the GPS on his phone then pulled out.

 

* * *

 

John’s phone rang as he inched his way down the Vancouver highway and he fumbled for it, finally managing to tug it out of his back pocket while also trying to stay in the lane.  “Hello?” he answered as the car in front of him apparently found the gas pedal and moved forward.

“I heard a rumor you were back in the States,” an easygoing drawl greeted him.

John lowered his phone, glancing quickly at the caller ID.  Raising the phone back to his ear, he asked in disbelief, “Evan?  Evan Lorne, is that you?”

“Hey, Sheppard, how’s it going?”

“Uh,” John glared at the red taillights in front of him, stopped again, “I, yeah, I’m—I’m good.”

Lorne replied, “Good.  Listen, since you’re back in town, let’s grab a beer.  Catch up.  It’s been too long, my friend.”

“That it has.”  John slammed on the brakes as an SUV cut him off.  “Unfortunately, I can’t.”

“Hot date?”

That wrung a small chuckle out of him.  Man, it was good to hear Evan’s voice.  They’d served together often over the years and Lorne had saved his ass many times.  He was a good friend and John didn’t have a lot of those.  Didn’t really try all that hard anymore.  But Evan stuck by him for some reason.  “Yeah, no.  As much as I would like to see you, I’m not in the States.”

“Shipped out again already?”  Lorne sounded dismayed and John had to laugh again.

“No, I’m in Canada.”

There was a pause then Evan said, “I’m sorry, I think I heard you wrong.  Did you just say you were in _Canada_?”

“Yeah.  I’m headed to this little town outside Vancouver called Maple Ridge.”

“Shep.  Dude.  What the hell are you doing in _Vancouver_ , of all places?”

John hit the horn, swearing as he narrowly avoided hitting a car.  “Trying not to die, apparently,” he answered, irritated.  “Who’d have thought I’d feel safer driving a Humvee through Afghanistan than I do driving down the highway in Canada?”

“Well there’s something you don’t hear every day.  But seriously, what are you doing in Canada?  And why are you going to some town in the middle of nowhere instead of finding the nearest bar with your oldest friend?”

“Uh,” John inched forward, trying to keep another car from sliding into the space between bumpers, “it’s, uh, well.  You’re gonna think I’m crazy.”

“Too late for that,” Evan said with a laugh.  “What’s up, man?”

“Well.”  John blew out his breath.  “You know those letters that the USO gives out?  From people writing to soldiers they’ve never met in an attempt to foster Christmas spirit?  Well, I got one of those . . . .  from a kid and, I don’t know, I wrote back.  And she answered, told me to visit for a real Christmas and I just—I want to meet her.  Thank her for the letter, you know?”

“Wow, that’s—not something I thought I’d hear from you.  You sure about this?”

John nodded, knowing his friend couldn’t see it.  “Yeah.  Yeah, I’m sure.  I’m just going to meet her, spend the night in a hotel, then find somewhere to spend Christmas.”  _Preferably with no people around,_ he thought irritably.  He had a lot of thinking to do in the time between now and Christmas as well but he didn’t want to bring that up.  That was a whole ‘nother can of worms.  Another car tried to shove in front of him and John swore.  “Look, I have to go before I die, but we’ll get together soon; promise.”

“Holding you to that, Shep.  I’m gonna want the whole story later.  Be careful up there.  Bye.”

“Bye.”  John dropped his phone in the passenger seat and focused on trying not to get hit by civilians who didn’t know how to drive their damn cars.

 

* * *

 

Snow tangled in his hair, fell on his eyelashes, and covered the ground as John made his slow way up the front walk.  The moon had come out, despite it being only a little past seven.  His GPS had led him to a nice-looking brick two-story house on a street full of similar-looking houses, most in various stages of Christmas decorating.  Madison’s had a few lights in the front bushes and a wreath on the front door; the beginnings of lights around the awnings.  John stopped on the top step, his heart pounding.  Now that he was actually here, he felt unaccountably nervous. 

_Stop being such a baby_ , he scolded himself.  _Just knock on the damn door_.  It wasn’t that hard.  He’d done harder things than knock on a door and ask to see someone who lived there.

He still stood there for another minute before he swallowed and raised his hand to rap his knuckles on the metal screen door.  John shoved his hand back in his pocket, regretting the lack of gloves.  Who knew Canada would be this cold?  Or maybe he was just extra sensitive after spending years in the desert.

A minute passed.  Then another.  John was just deciding that this was a sign and had turned to start back to his rental when the door opened.

“I’m just saying, if you want to do experiments—do them in the garage, where you’re less likely to damage something important,” a man was saying as he pulled the door open.  He blinked in surprise when he saw John standing there.  “Hi.  Can I help you?”

“Hi.”  John shifted awkwardly.  “Um.  I’m—I’m looking for Madison Miller.  She lives here, right?”

The man eyed him, his hand still on the door.  “What makes you think that anyone by that name lives here?”

John stared at him in confusion for a minute before the light bulb went off.  _Oh Jesus, you’re an idiot, John,_ he thought. _Of course he’s not going to admit she’s here.  This is probably her dad and this must look super creepy, an older guy looking for a little girl late at night._   John fumbled in his pocket, his fingers stiff from the cold, and pulled out one of the envelopes.  He unfolded it from the little square it had been in and held it out to the man he assumed was Mr. Miller. 

Mr. Miller took it, turned it over to study the address.  As he pulled the letter out, John spoke.  “I received a letter from Madison, one of many that came to the base I was stationed at.  Something about what she wrote made me want to write back.  I never expected it to reach her, let alone get a response.  But it did.  Reach her, that is.  And she wrote back, sent me paper snowflakes, and invited me over.”  Mr. Miller didn’t look up, didn’t give any indication that he was listening.  John licked his lips, his hands back in his coat pockets.  Snow drifted down the back of his jacket and he shivered.  “I just wanted to thank her for—for bringing a little Christmas to where I was.  That’s all, sir.”

Mr. Miller put the letter back in the envelope and handed it back to John, a faint smile on his face.

Wondering what now, John slowly reached out and took it back, folding it and sliding the envelope back into his pocket.

Mr. Miller stepped back, holding the door open.  “Kaleb Miller.  Madison’s my daughter.”

John blinked but stepped inside.  “Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.  Thank you, sir.”

Kaleb closed the door behind them and said, “Please, call me Kaleb.  Come get warm, Colonel.  That coat’s not nearly warm enough for this weather.”

“John, then,” John said as he walked in, looking around as he did.  He rubbed his hands together to try and get them warm as he took stock of his surroundings.  The entryway opened up almost immediately, showing a kitchen and dining room to the right, the living room to the left.  A staircase led upwards opposite him, next to a hallway that led to the back of the house.  Green garland snaked up the handrail and a large red bow was tied to the post at the bottom of the staircase.

“Make yourself comfortable,” Kaleb said, gesturing towards the living room.  “I’ll go get Maddie.”

John thanked him and walked into the living room, looking around and trying not to feel like this was a bad idea. 

“Oh, hey, do you want a drink or something?  I know it’s late but I can get you some coffee . . .?”

John spun.  Kaleb had one foot on the stairs and was looking back at him.  “No.  Thank you.”  John shook his head.  “Don’t bother.  I won’t be long.”

“Okay,” Kaleb replied but he sounded doubtful.  John turned back to the living room as Kaleb headed upstairs.  “Maddie?”

A round end table with a lamp stood next to a pale gray couch that had several pillows, none of which matched the couch color.  He walked between the couch and the coffee table, noting the remotes, books, a partially finished crossword puzzle—in pencil, newspaper, drink rings, and ephemera that littered the top of the table.  A green La-Z-Boy chair sat along the front wall, in between a window and an empty space John assumed was where the tree would go.  On the opposite side of the room was the entertainment center, with a TV and DVD player on top of a cabinet partially open to display their DVD collection.  Another lamp stood in the corner by the chair.  On the remaining wall was a fireplace—no fire at the moment—and on the mantel were several photographs.

It felt like a home.

Like an actual people-live-here sort of home.

It had been a long, _long_ , time since John had been anywhere that he considered home.  John tried hard not to feel too comfortable anywhere.  Life had a habit of ripping that sort of security away from him.  With that thought rattling around in his head, John didn’t feel like sitting so he drifted over to check out the photos.  There were the typical baby photos, a couple birthday photos of Madison with her parents and a cake.  Some clearly from vacations—he could now put actual faces to the drawing she’d sent him, picking out her mom and dad.

“—send me the data you’ve got.  I’ll see if I can figure out what’s going on.  Damn it, I wish we’d never put Kavanagh on this project in the first place.  Everything’s all screwed up now.”

John spun around at the voice, his breath catching, feeling his chest constrict as he saw someone walk into the room.  He hadn’t heard that voice in years but he’d recognize it anywhere.  The newcomer wore blue jeans and a dark green sweater, one hand pressing a phone against his ear, waving his free hand in the air as he talked.

“Yes, exactly!  Right, so just email me everything and I’ll go through it all tonight to try and figure out what . . . hap. . . .” the man trailed off as he caught sight of John, the hand holding the phone drifting slowly down to his side.  They stared at each other for a long moment, the couch between them.

John couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe.  There was no way this was happening.  It couldn’t be . . .

“John.”  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.  “What are you doing here?”  The simple question hit like an accusation.

John cleared his throat.  “Hi, Rodney,” he said, his voice sounding strangled.

“Oh, hey, Rodney.  Didn’t mean to disturb you,” Kaleb came back down the stairs at that moment, a young girl traipsing behind him, “I see you’ve met our guest.  John, this is my brother-in-law, Rodney McKay.”

A memory overtook John as he heard himself answer as if from a distance, “We’ve . . . met before.”

 

_“Wait, you’re serious?”_

_“Why do you sound so surprised?  You knew I was thinking about it.”_

_“Well, yeah, but I mean, I guess, oh I don’t know, maybe I thought you would have talked to me about it before you went and signed up with the fucking military!”_

_John threw his bag on the floor and put his hands on his hips, glaring at him.  “Yes, Rodney, I made a decision about my life that you didn’t have a say in.  I don’t see the problem here.”_

_“And that’s the problem!” Rodney snapped, stabbing a finger at him.  “It’s not just_ your _life that this affects!  I thought we were partners and partners talk about major life decisions.”_

_John ran a hand through his hair and turned away.  Their little apartment was a mess: books and papers lay all over, empty pizza boxes and takeout containers littered the kitchen, John’s workout clothes lay in a smelly pile in the corner of their bedroom.  Indicators of a life that was no longer his; no longer_ theirs _.  John took a deep breath and turned around.  “Okay.  I am sorry if I hurt you—”_

_“Hurt me?”  Rodney laughed bitterly.  “Yeah, that’s one word for it.  John, what am I supposed to do while you go off and fight someone else’s war?  Just wait at home, be the dutiful military spouse, and hope that you eventually make it home alive?  You know that’s not me.  And what about the plans we had?  Are you giving up on them?  On us?”_

_“I’m not—” John stepped closer, gripping Rodney’s elbows.  Rodney avoided his gaze.  “Rodney…..hey, I’m not giving up on anything.  But I need to find a path that doesn’t have anything to do with my father.  Find my own way.  You get that, right?”  John ducked his head, trying to catch Rodney’s eyes.  “Hey, come on, look at me.”_

_Rodney lifted his head, his blue eyes bright with unshed tears.  “You’re leaving.  Feels like giving up to me.”_

_John kissed him lightly and said quietly, “I won’t be gone forever.  We’ll keep in touch.  And we’ll be together when I’m on leave, I promise.”_

_“You can’t promise that.  The military owns you.”  Rodney shook his head and gently pulled free.  “I’m sorry, John.  I can’t do this.  I can’t wait around and hope that you come back to me.  If you have to do this—if you have to join the Air Force—then you have to do it without me.  There’s no place for me in that kind of life.  Goodbye, John.”_

_Rodney grabbed his jacket and keys and walked out of their apartment, leaving John staring after him._

 

It had been nearly twenty years since Rodney had walked out on him.

Twenty years since John hadn’t gone running after him.

Kaleb came up next to Rodney and looked between them.  “Okay, then.  Um, well, there’s someone else you need to meet.”  He put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and nudged her forward.  “John, this is Madison.”

She walked around the couch to stand in front of him, effectively pulling his attention from Rodney, but he was still very much aware of the man's presence.  Rodney was hard to ignore.  He was startled to note that she barely came up to his waist.  Her yellow hair was in a low ponytail and she was in her pajamas.  He felt guilty suddenly for interrupting bedtime.

She tilted her head back to look up at him and he dropped to one knee to meet her on her level.  “Hi, Madison,” he said gently.  “I’m Colonel John.  You wrote me letters and sent me snow?”

Madison smiled at him, a wide gap-toothed smile.  “Did you like them?”

John smiled back, resting his arms on his knee.  “Very much.  Thank you.”

“Good.  Mommy helped me make them ‘cause I’m not ‘llowed to use grown-up scissors on my own yet.”  She stuck the end of her pigtail in her mouth.  “I’m glad you’re okay.  Mommy said I had to be prepared to learn you weren’t.”

She was so unlike Rodney and yet . . . he could see Rodney in her eyes.  In her demeanor.  Honestly, he would have thought the kid _was_ Rodney’s if he hadn’t seen the blonde woman in the photos.  “I’m very glad you wrote that letter, Madison.  You gave me a little bit of Christmas spirit back and I wanted to thank you for that.”

Rodney walked out of the room, and that hurt like a physical blow. 

“You’re welcome,” she said brightly, pulling his attention back then she asked, “You wanna make some snowflakes with me?”

Kaleb interjected, “Maddie, honey, it’s nearly time for bed.”

“Oh.”  Madison frowned and Christ, that was like Rodney too.  John’s head was spinning.  “Tomorrow, then.  We can make snowflakes and cookies and—”

She was on a roll but luckily someone else entered the room, calling for Maddie.  “Oh, there you two are.  Mer said something about a visitor?”  A blonde woman entered the room and she stopped when she caught sight of John with Madison.  “Hi!  I’m Jeannie.”

“Mommy, this is Colonel John!  He got my letter!”  Madison ran to her mom, grabbed her hand and tugged her across the room.

Using the floor for leverage, John got to his feet with a faint grunt—his wounds from the crash were still healing—and held out a hand to her.  This must be Rodney’s sister.  He wracked his brain, trying to remember if he’d ever met her while he was dating Rodney.  “Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard.  I’m sorry to come so late but I just wanted to thank Madison for her letter.”

Jeannie took his hand then frowned, studying him.  “You look familiar.”

“He shouldn’t,” Rodney said sourly, coming back into the room and crossing his arms.

Jeannie turned to him and John shoved his hands in his coat pockets.  Yep, this was a bad idea.  Definitely time to go.  He’d done what he’d come here to do so now he could go and not mess with their lives further.  Shooting a quick glance at Rodney, John swallowed.  It was also very clear that Rodney did not want him here.  Whatever they’d once had, it was gone.  God, he still couldn’t believe it.  Rodney McKay, his college boyfriend.  Here.  Crazy.

Crazy how just the sight of him brought up those old feelings.  The surge of longing took him by surprise and it was all he could do to just stand there.

“Wait, Mer, you know John?”

“I thought I did.”

“What do you mean?”  She looked between them.  “Why do you seem so familiar?  Have we met before?”

“Look,” John interjected before they could go down memory lane, and they all turned to look at him.  He tossed a thumb towards the doorway.  “I’m just—I’m gonna go.  I’ve disrupted your evening enough.  It was nice meeting you all and,” he dropped his gaze to the kid, “I really am grateful for your letters, Madison.  Thank you but I should go.”

“Wait,” Jeannie said, looking between John and her brother.  “You’re the one Maddie’s been writing to?  And you know my brother?”

Not wanting to prolong the awkwardness, John headed for the door but stopped in the entryway and looked at Rodney.  “For what it’s worth, Rodney,” he said softly, “I regret what happened between us.”

Rodney’s mouth parted and he stared at John. 

John turned for the door, missing his step as a little plaintive voice asked, “Are you coming back tomorrow to make snowflakes, Colonel John?”

A pained expression crossed his face and John forced himself to turn back around and face Madison, who held her mother’s hand and looked at him forlornly.  Guilting him as only a child could.  “I’m sorry,” John finally said.  “I can’t.  It was nice meeting you all.  Merry Christmas.”  He pulled the door open and stepped out into the snow. 

It was falling harder as he walked down the driveway, as he climbed into his rental car and turned it on.  Light spilled out the open door of the Miller house, making the snow sparkle.  John refused to turn and see if someone stood in that open door.

John took a breath and put the car in drive, pushed the gas pedal down, and pulled away from the curb.

It wasn’t until he was pulling back onto the highway and heading for his hotel that John was able to take a deep breath.


	4. Chapter Four

Rodney sat on the couch with Kaleb, long after John had left, staring at the wall.  Jeannie was having trouble putting Maddie to bed since she was apparently heartbroken that John wasn’t going to come make snowflakes with her.  _Join the club_ , he thought bitterly.  She wasn’t the only one in this house who’d had their heart broken by one John Sheppard.  What the hell was he even doing here?  It wasn’t fair of him to just show up out of the blue and flip Rodney’s world upside down with one sentence.

Kaleb kept him company but didn’t say anything, probably waiting for Jeannie to come down to start the interrogation.

“Okay,” Jeannie said, entering the room and dropping onto the couch next to her husband.  “Maddie is officially in bed, lights out.  Finally.”

Rodney could feel her looking at him and the couch shifted as Kaleb got to his feet.  “I have an early class,” he said, bending down to kiss Jeannie, “so I’m going to follow suit and head to bed.  See you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, hun.”

Kaleb waved to Rodney and left them alone.

Rodney counted silently.  _One.  Two.  Thr—_

“So what was that all about?”

Three seconds.  Rodney thought that might be a record.  “What was what all about?” he replied tonelessly, still staring at the wall.

She shifted closer to him.  “You and John.  How do you know him?”

He sighed.  “That is a long, long story.”

“Well, give me the spark notes version then.”

“Jeannie . . .”

“Nope.”  She shook her head.  “Not getting out of this.  I want to know how you know Maddie’s Colonel John.”

“We met years ago.  At MIT.”  A small smile crossed his lips at the memories.  They’d had some good times before John destroyed it. 

“He was your boyfriend, wasn’t he.”  It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah.  He was the one.  Or I thought he was.  But we were friends first, before all of that.  Best friends.”  The first person to accept him, _all_ of him.  With a small sigh, Rodney pushed to his feet and walked over to the window, pulling the curtain aside to peer out at the night.  Snow fell, coating the world in a layer of sparkling white.  “I told you about him, remember?”

Jeannie remained on the couch.  “Bits.  So what happened?”

Rodney took a deep breath, let it out slowly.  “I expected him to propose when we graduated.  I’d found the ring box in his drawer one day when he was taking a final.  We had all these plans, all these things we were going to do.  And then he went and signed his life away.  I loved him and he left.”  He could still remember how much it hurt, finding the letter from the United States Air Force informing John of his report date for boot camp just days after stumbling upon the ring.  “I haven’t seen or heard from him since that day.”

“You never tried to get in contact with him?”

He turned around.  “How?  He was in the military!  Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell was still a thing and it’s not like I could go and visit him.”

“Meredith!  You could have written a letter.  Sent him a card.  Something to tell him you were still thinking about him!”

“And say what?  ‘Thanks for breaking my heart but good luck fighting crazies in the middle of a desert?’  Yeah, that’d go over well.”  His default sarcasm came out, coating every word.  He turned back to the window, the curtain still parted just enough for him to look outside, his arms crossed.

There was a creak of springs and then he felt Jeannie’s hand on his shoulder.  She said softly, “You miss him.”

“I don’t miss him.  I’m mad at him.”

“You can be mad at him and still miss him.”

Rodney glanced at her briefly.  “Twenty years, Jeannie.  Twenty _years_ without a word from him and he expects me to just suddenly be nice to him?”

“You didn’t reach out either!” she pointed out.

“That’s—that’s beside the point!  I’m just glad he’s leaving.”

“No, you’re not.  John came back into your life for a reason, Mer.  I know you miss him and now fate brought him back to you.”

Rodney closed his eyes— _For what it’s worth, Rodney, I regret what happened between us_ —and admitted, “I guess . . . maybe I do miss him.  Or rather, I miss what we had.  But that’s neither here nor there.  He came to see Maddie and he did and now he’s leaving.  No such thing as fate.”  Rodney shrugged off her hand and turned away.  “Anyway, I’m heading to bed.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

Jeannie watched him go, a thoughtful frown on her face.  These two had crossed paths for a reason, she just knew it.  Mer hadn’t had a real relationship in years and she could now tie that back to him and John breaking up.  And John . . . there was something there, something he was hiding.  Something in the shadows in his eyes that was more than just losing the love of his life.  Jeannie thought, maybe, they needed each other.

She’d have to do something about that.

 

* * *

 

It took Jeannie the better part of an hour to find out where John was staying.  It involved a ton of phone calls and a bit of lying but she excused that since it was Christmas and she was trying to do something nice.  But at the sixteenth hotel, she hit pay dirt.

“Holiday Inn Express & Suites, my name is Cassandra, how can I help you?” the employee on the other end answered the phone.

“Hi,” Jeannie said, leaning over the phone book spread open on her kitchen table, a pen twisting through her fingers.  She used it to mark her place, trying not to look at the crossed out names.  “Can you forward me to John Sheppard’s room?”

“And who do I tell him is calling?”

Jeannie sagged in her chair in relief.  “His sister, Jeannie.”

“Okay, ma’am.  Just let me ring his room and see if he’s still awake.”

Instrumental holiday music played through the earpiece and Jeannie tapped her fingernails on the countertop as she waited.  She hoped that the surprise of her calling him would be enough to convince him to answer but couldn’t be sure.

“Are you still there, ma’am?”

“Yes!  Yes, I’m here.  Is he awake?”

“Yes, he is.  Give me one moment to connect you.  Have a good night and merry Christmas!”

“Thank you!”  Jeannie glanced out into the hallway and bit her lower lip, hoping she wouldn’t wake Meredith.  He was going to be so pissed at her if she managed to pull this off but she could get past that.  She was doing this for him and John, after all.

John’s voice in her ear startled her.  “How did you find me?”  He sounded annoyed.

“Easy,” Jeannie answered, undaunted.  “Called every hotel nearby pretending to be your sister until I got the right one.”

“Great.  So much for my privacy.  What do you want?”

“What are your plans for Christmas, John?”

“……what?”

“Christmas.  What are you doing for the holiday?”

“Finding a little cabin in the middle of nowhere and not having to think about sand or talk to people.  Why?” he answered.

Jeannie frowned.  Okay.  Okay, she could work with that.  “No family to spend it with?”

John’s sigh had weight to it, even through the phone.  “I’ll repeat my earlier question.  What do you want, Jeannie?”

“I want you to stay for Christmas,” she said bluntly.

 

* * *

 

The sound of the hotel room phone ringing interrupted John mid-change and he dashed out of the bathroom, grabbing for the receiver on the dresser before it could go to voicemail.  “Hello?” he answered, slightly out of breath.  He winced, pressing a hand to the bandages to keep them from completely unwinding from around his waist and falling off.  He hadn’t _quite_ managed to finish taping them up before the phone call.

“Mr. Sheppard?  Hi, this is Cassandra at the front desk.”

“Hi, Cassandra.  Is something wrong?”  John looked down at the wound, the edges of the bandage flopping back, and grimaced at the faint seepage he could see.  He’d have to dig out the antibiotics from his bag before bed.

“I have a phone call for you.  Your sister, Jeannie, is on the line.  I can forward her to your room if you’d like?”

John sank onto the edge of the bed.  Jeannie?  Pretending to be his sister.  Why?

“Mr. Sheppard?  Is that okay?”

“Yeah,” he said abruptly.  Might as well find out what she wanted.  “Yeah, put her through.”

“Okay.  One moment please.”  Instrumental holiday music filled his ear.

Getting to his feet with a sharp inhale, John grabbed the console and dragged it as close to the bathroom as he could so he could finish taping up the bandages.  A click on the line informed him that the call had been put through and he spoke before she could.  “How did you find me?”  He didn’t even bother trying to check his annoyance.

“Easy,” came the answer.  “Called every hotel nearby pretending to be your sister until I got the right one.”

Well that was definitely a McKay thing to do.  John raised his eyes to the ceiling and taped down the last bit of bandaging.  “Great,” he muttered.  “So much for my privacy.  What do you want?”

“What are your plans for Christmas, John?”

“……what?”

“Christmas.  What are you doing for the holiday?”

John walked out of the bathroom, scooped up the console and returned to the bed without bothering to dig a shirt out of his duffel bag.  _Not a damn thing, hopefully,_ he thought but didn’t say.  Sitting down, he glanced at his cell phone, lying on the bed next to him, and remembered the search he’d done before his shower.  “Finding a little cabin in the middle of nowhere and not having to think about sand or talk to people.  Why?” he answered honestly.

Jeannie didn’t respond for a minute then asked, “No family to spend it with?”

John almost laughed out loud.  If she only knew how right she was.  He wanted nothing to do with his family.  And they wanted nothing to do with him.  Oh, he knew what the media said about him but he was honestly happy to be out of the limelight.  It was far better suited to his brother, anyway.  But he really didn’t need to go into his messed up personal life right now.  Instead, John let out a sigh, scooting back until he was resting against the pillows.  “I’ll repeat my earlier question,” _because I still want an answer_ , “What do you want, Jeannie?”  He knew he sounded tired but it had been a long day.  He expected something to do with the kid and was preparing to tell her no again.

“I want you to stay for Christmas,” she said bluntly.

John blinked and sat up straight.  Then winced.  “I’m sorry.  You want what now?”

“I want you to stay for Christmas.  You don’t have plans and nobody should spend the holidays alone so spend them with us.”

“Ah,” John had no words.  “Um.”

“Look, I know you came here to see my daughter because of her letter.  But I also know you haven’t had a real Christmas in a while so this is your chance!”

“I—don’t know…..” John hedged.  He ran his free hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck.  The feeling of home he’d sensed at the Millers’ was nice.  And he did like the kid.  And her parents.  But the hostility coming off Rodney……

“Come on,” she wheedled. 

John shook his head.  “I don’t think Rodney wants me around.  I’d just end up ruining your Christmas.  Thanks for the offer but no.”

She went quiet for a minute and John found himself waiting to see what she’d come up with next.  She didn’t disappoint.  “Are you any good at woodwork?”

Another curveball.  “I—what?”  If John had had any doubts about her being Rodney’s sister, this conversation dispelled them.  Trying to keep up with the conversational turns was like being in the same room when Rodney hit a breakthrough, always ten steps behind.  Man, but what a sight it was.  John smiled a little, thinking of how Rodney lit up when he was passionate about something.

“I’m in charge of the Christmas pageant at Madison’s school and I need help getting the sets built.  Kaleb and some of the other dads are helping but they all have full time jobs and families and can’t really spend all that much time working on it.  Since you don’t have any plans, I could _really_ use your help getting things built so we can really rehearse.  What do you say?  Stay and help me out?  I can offer home cooked meals, a real Christmas with all the bells and whistles….?”

John laughed a little.  “Wow, you really want me to stay.”

“Not entirely selfless, of course,” Jeannie said and he could hear the grin.  “So?  Do we have a deal, Colonel Sheppard?”

Jeannie Miller was one hell of a negotiator.  And John had to admit, the prospect of a real Christmas—and he was sure he’d never actually had one—and food that wasn’t cooked by people who’d clearly never used a pot before was a hard one to deny.  He was only human, right?

 

* * *

 

“I cannot believe I let you rope me into this nonsense.” 

“I did not rope you into anything.  You are Madison’s uncle, therefore you must help.”

Rodney scowled at his sister over his shoulder as she pushed him down the ramp to the stage.  “I have work to do.”

“Yes, you do,” Jeannie agreed, her voice full of laughter.  “Now, I had the music teacher move the piano into the theatre for you and it’ll be great for the kids to hear real music to sing to instead of trying to sing along to records.”  Someone called her name and Jeannie gave him a little push to keep him going.  “I’ll check in with you later.”

Rodney hunched his shoulders as he walked the rest of the way up to the stage, taking in the excess of activity occurring up there.  The first couple rows of seats were filled with coats and backpacks from the workers and kids in the pageant.  Garland dangled along the edge of the stage, falling to the floor about halfway across.  Rodney snorted.  Clearly someone had gotten bored and didn’t finish.  Up on the stage, half a dozen men worked on building sets.  They were all in various stages of production but not a one was even close to being finished.

There were a couple partially built walls that might be backgrounds, something that may or may not be a reindeer, the bottom of what he thought might turn out to be a sleigh . . . . Rodney shook his head.  The place was a mess.  There were adults onstage, either moving things around or talking.  Very few of them were actually working.  No wonder they were behind on rehearsal, if this was the stage crew.  As he got closer, he noted the boxes sitting in piles, some labeled, some open and as he watched, one of the men came and got some garland out of one of them.  Ah, he thought, decorations for the sets.

He dodged a group of girls, idly wondering where his niece was, then his gaze was caught by something on stage.  The only recognizable building, a half-built barn stood to Rodney’s left, with a floor, half a wall, the beginnings of a stall and no roof.  In fact, as he watched, one of the dads dragged a ladder over to the barn and climbed up it before reaching down to lift a board up and settle it along the top of the barn’s back wall.  Rodney tilted his head as he walked, eyeing him appreciatively.  Man, if he’d known Maddie’s friends had dads that looked that hot in jeans and a black t-shirt, he’d have volunteered to help out instead of making his sister force him into helping!

He also would have worn something a little less nerdy, he thought with a frown, tugging at the hem of his red “eat, sleep, physics” t-shirt.

The man on the ladder left one hand on the board and reached down with the other to pull a hammer from his tool belt.  “Hey, John,” a young man called out, jogging over, “you need a hand?”

Rodney rocked to a stop three rows before the stage, his mouth dropping open.

The man on the ladder looked over his shoulder, black hair sticking up every which way, the hammer hooked between a couple fingers but still partially in the belt, as the other man walked up.  He was too young-looking to be a father.  Someone’s older brother, perhaps?  “Mark.  Hey.  Do you mind grabbing the other end and holding it steady while I hammer it in?”

Mark nodded and looked around before hauling a stepstool over.  He climbed up on it and wrapped his hands around the far edge of the board before nodding to John.

John Sheppard.

Oh god. 

John was here.

John was _still_ here.

Why was he here?  He should have left!  There was only one reason John would still be in town after last night.

Spinning round to scour the room for his sister, Rodney knew exactly why John was here and he’d be damned if he’d stay in the same room with the man.  Waltzing into his life without a warning, being nice to his niece, _apologizing_ —no.  No, he wasn’t doing this.

Catching sight of Jeannie with a couple women in an aisle, Rodney stalked over to her.  As soon as he was in earshot, he demanded, “What the hell did you do?”

All three looked at him in surprise.  Jeannie asked, “What are you talking about?  Is something wrong with the piano?”

“What?  I don’t know.  I haven’t even looked at the piano.”

“You haven’t—well then, what’s wrong?”

Rodney turned and pointed at the barn.  God, and he had been staring at John’s ass!  _Admiring_ John’s ass!  “Why is he here?” he said shortly.

“Who?”

“You _know_ who, Jeannie!  Why isn’t he, I don’t know, somewhere that’s not here?”

Jeannie rolled her eyes and the women she was talking to excused themselves.  “I thought you said last night that you missed him.  Well,” she waved in the direction of the stage, “here he is.”

_Oh god, she didn’t._   He spluttered, “You—you—Jeannie, what did you _do?!_ ”

“John has no plans for Christmas so I invited him to join us for the holidays.  In return, he’s helping with the set.”  Jeannie frowned at him.  “Really, Mer, there’s no need for all the theatrics.  You’re both adults; it’s time you started acting like it.  You said you missed him; I’m giving you the chance to fix that.  Now go; fix it.” 

She gave him a push and he stumbled a step before he caught his balance.  He shot her one last scowl over his shoulder before heading to the corner where the piano stood.  He focused on ignoring everyone and everything as he stomped around to the piano bench.

Maddie raced past the piano as he pulled it open and grabbed the books, shouting, “Colonel John, you came back!”

Rodney whirled around to see John come to the edge of the theatre and crouch down—looking damn hot in that black shirt—and smile at the girl.  He clutched the books tight in both hands, bending the pages as he watched John and Maddie.  John had no right looking that good.  Or being nice to a little girl he’d only met once.

“Hi, Madison.  Yeah, your mom asked me to help out with the pageant; hope that’s okay.”

She beamed up at him.  “Cool!  I can’t wait for you to meet my friends!”

John’s gaze suddenly flicked over to Rodney, a shadow passing across John’s face for a brief moment before he turned back to Madison.  “I’d love to, kiddo, but I have to get back to work right now.  Maybe later, okay?”

She nodded.  “Okay!”

John ruffled her hair, put a hand on his knee and stood, a grimace crossing his face before he turned around.

Rodney tilted his head, frowning.  What was that?  Then he shook his head.  It didn’t matter what it was because he didn’t care.  He didn’t want John here and he wasn’t going to encourage whatever nonsense Jeannie had concocted.  Rodney pointedly turned his back on the work going on up on the stage and sat down at the piano to go through the supplied music.

John’s unexpected presence had thrown him but not anymore.  Rodney was not going to acknowledge the man.  He nodded.  Right.  He had work to do.

Rodney resolutely opened a book, set it on the stand, and put his fingers to the keys, feeling his way through the chords without pressing them fully down.

As he reached up to turn the page, though, Rodney’s gaze strayed to the soldier working silently on his own.  John had always preferred to work on his own; it was something they’d had in common from the start.  Stuck as lab partners, Rodney had taken one look at the lazy smirk on that handsome face and decided he wasn’t going to fail because his partner was an idiot. 

 

_“Look, if you want a good grade, just sit over there and don’t interrupt.”  Rodney dismissed the boy and turned to the instructions in the manual._

_“You do know we’re supposed to do this_ together _, right?” the boy asked with a slow drawl._

_Rodney scowled at the manual, hearing the amusement in it.  “I am excellent at science.  You?”  Rodney gave him a dismissive onceover and reached for a beaker.  “Mr. Surfer?  Yeah, you don’t look like you have the first clue what to do and I am not failing the first lab session of the semester so just do what you probably did in high school and let the nerd work, okay?”_

_“Wow,” the boy had said after a minute.  “That’s some serious repressed anger you got going on there.  And although I do like to surf, my name’s John.”_

_Rodney ignored him and started measuring out liquids._

_John moved to lean his back against the lab table, hands in his jeans pockets.  “It’s going to explode,” he said after a couple minutes._

_Rodney huffed.  “Is not.”_

_“Is too.  You’re pouring too much in.”_

_“It’s not going to explode.  I know exactly what I’m doing.  Shut up.”_

_John shrugged and pulled out his cell phone.  “Your funeral.”_

_Rodney glared at him then pointedly mixed the chemicals together.  He watched for the expected reaction but the liquids instead bubbled and started to rise towards the lip of the beaker.  He backed away.  “Oh.  Um, that’s—that’s not supposed to happen.  Oh no.”_

_John glanced over.  The bubbles overflowed, the sound of acid hissing.  John swore then grabbed Rodney’s arm and yanked him away, shouting for everyone to take cover.  John dragged him behind another lab table just as the combined chemicals shot straight up into the air._

_Later, after they’d been chewed out by the professor then forced to stay behind and clean up the lab, Rodney had swallowed his pride long enough to thank John for the rescue.  John shrugged and said, “No problem.”_

_Rodney threw his rag in the bucket and said, “You knew that was going to happen, didn’t you?”_

_“Maybe.”_

_“And yet you let me do it anyway.”_

_“Like I said,” John said, tossing his own rag in the bucket, “your funeral.”_

_“How did you know that was going to happen?” Rodney persisted, knowing he was missing something.  He_ hated _missing something._

_John shook his head and said, amused, “You know, I didn’t get into MIT because of my good looks and charm.”_

_“Although I’m sure that helped,” Rodney retorted but he was rapidly reassessing his first impression of the boy._

_John looked around the room and said, “I think the place is clean enough.”_

_He picked up his backpack and headed for the door but Rodney snatched up his things and rushed after him.  He stopped John in his tracks and stuck out a hand.  “Do-over?  I’m Rodney McKay.  What was your name again?”_

_John stared then laughed and took his hand.  “Yeah, alright.  Do-over.  Name’s John Sheppard.”_

_“Now tell me how you knew that was going to happen.”_

_From that moment on, they were inseparable._

 

Rodney smiled a little at the memory.  He wondered if John remembered.  Then he shook his head.  Right.  He wasn’t supposed to be feeling fond; he was supposed to be ignoring.  Rodney sat firmly on the bench, slammed the books onto the piano and opened one up.  He flexed his fingers and did a few scales to warm up.

He didn’t notice John’s head whip around at the first notes, stopped in his work at the sound.  He didn’t notice that John shifted his work closer to the piano while Rodney played the intro to a song.

And he certainly did not notice Jeannie’s satisfied smile when she saw.


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's an early chapter to keep you occupied and warm during the polar vortex :)

John wasn’t quite sure how it happened but within a couple days of joining the work crew for the pageant, the others had decided he was in charge.  They came to him with questions, with requests, offered assistance . . . it was kind of like being back in the military.  It actually helped him feel a little more comfortable with the whole situation.

He lifted a board up and worked it into place next to the others.  The Millers had welcomed him with open arms; Madison called him “Colonel John,” which, now that he thought about it, was probably why he’d become the de facto leader of the crew.  The only down side was the fact that Rodney treated him like a leper. 

“Ow!” he hissed, shaking his hand.

“Everything okay, John?”  Kaleb stopped and looked up at where John was leaning against the top of what was going to be Santa’s workshop, sucking on a fingertip.

“Yeah,” John said with a frown.  “Just a splinter.  I thought Bill was supposed to be sanding the wood down so this didn’t happen?”

Kaleb looked around with a frown of his own.  “Yeah, he was.  I could go talk to him if you want.”

“Nah, I’ll take care of it.  He’s just distracted, flirting with Elizabeth.”  Rolling his eyes, John carefully climbed down the ladder.  “Thanks, though.”

Kaleb clapped him on the shoulder.  “No problem.  Oh, hey, before I forget: are you coming for dinner tonight?  Rehearsal’s over and I know the girls would love to have you.”

John’s gaze flicked over to Rodney, who was gathering up his music books, then back to Kaleb and shook his head.  “Nah.  I’ve got a lot of work to do here, getting the sets built.  The pageant’s in a week and a half and I’m sure Jeannie wants a couple rehearsals with the full sets and we don’t have anything near complete yet.  Thanks for the offer, though.”

Kaleb studied him then shrugged.  “Okay.  Next time, then.  But be careful not to spend all your time working.  Make sure to take some time and see the town, alright?”

John’s gaze strayed back to Rodney, who had joined Jeannie and was talking.  His chest tightened.  He really would like to spend time with the Millers but until he could thaw the tension between him and Rodney, it really wasn’t a good idea.

And coming to a family dinner was not the best way to do that, in John’s opinion.

John was starting to think that maybe he ought to call that company again and see if they had anything available.  At the moment, being alone in the woods was far preferable to being ignored by someone whose presence John was incapable of ignoring.

 

* * *

 

“How’s it going?” 

John’s friend’s voice filled his ear as he stepped into his hotel room.  John tossed his jacket aside, stuck his phone in between his ear and shoulder, and fished out his dinner from the fast food bag.  “Hey, Lorne.  S’okay.  Cold.”

“Great.  You’re back in town, right?  Perfect.  You can come keep me sane.”

“What?”

“My sister and her kids are in town.  They’re everywhere.  I love my sister but her kids have so much energy, I’m going crazy.  Come downtown and have a drink with me.  Or five.”

John hedged, “Umm…..kinda can’t do that.”

“Why?”  Lorne answered his own question with a sigh, “Because you’re still in Podunk, Canada.  Shep, why are you still in Canada?”

John hummed, sticking a fry in his mouth.  “Maple Ridge.  It’s called Maple Ridge, Canada.  And it’s a long story.”  John sat on the edge of the bed and unwrapped his hamburger, then set his phone on the bed after switching to speaker so he could eat.

“Shorten it.  Look, you met the kid right?  Thanked her for the letter, met the parents, got the whole thank-you-for-your-service spiel, yeah?”

Thinking back a few days, John nodded.  Yeah, they did that.  In a way.  “Yeah.” 

“So you did what you set out to do.  Now come back and spend Christmas with me.”

John made a face.  “It’s, uh, it’s a little more complicated than that.”

Lorne sighed.  “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!”  He paused, then admitted reluctantly, “My college boyfriend is here.  He’s the kid’s uncle.”  Then John waited for his friend’s reaction.  He’d never admitted it, never came out to Evan.  To keep from blurting out more or—god forbid—babbling, John took a large bite of the sandwich.

After a bit, Lorne said, “Okay.  Well now I know why I never believed those stories about you.”

John swallowed rapidly and coughed, his voice a bit hoarse, “Stories?  What stories?”

“About Sheppard the ladies’ man.  How you had a girl in every port.  You were infamous in a few of the military bars overseas.”

“Oh, that.  Yeah, I cultivated that so no one guessed.  All the girls flirted with me anyway, so it wasn’t that hard to convince the guys that I slept around.  It was a pretty good cover since I knew no one wanted a gay officer in command.  Especially back then.”

“They’re assholes and idiots, then.  Anyone who knows you knows that you’re a hell of an officer, sir.  No matter who you sleep with.  And things are different now.  Besides, you could kick the ass of anyone who tried to fuck with you.”

John dropped his head in his hands, relief filling him.  Evan accepted him, just like that.  “Thank you,” he said, heartfelt.

“I know you.  Not nearly as well as I thought I did, but I knew that that just didn’t seem like you.  Now this . . . . this makes sense.  So you’re sticking around to try and win him back, is that it?  Very romantic, Shep,” Lorne teased.

“Argh, I don’t know,” John groaned, setting his half-eaten hamburger aside and flopping backwards onto the bed.

“Well what’s the problem?”

“The kid—her name’s Madison, I don’t know if I told you—anyway, her mom invited me to spend Christmas with them and, I mean, I’d like to.  God knows it’s been years since I celebrated the holiday in any fashion.”

“Okay.”  John could practically hear his friend thinking.  “So have you talked to him yet?  Figured out if he still feels something for you?”

“…..no.”

“Well why the hell not?!”

“Because getting him to acknowledge I existed was the first hurdle!” John snapped.

Lorne started laughing and after a minute, John joined in, chuckling at the ridiculousness of his situation. 

“You never were one to do things the easy way, Shep.”

“Tell me about it,” John muttered and closed his eyes.  “And every time I go down to check out of the hotel, I end up paying for another night.  Same thing with the rental car.”

“Well, that’s part of your problem, John!  You can’t do this with one foot in, one foot out,” Lorne scolded him.  “You need to decide what you want.  If you want to do the small town Christmas, try to get your old boyfriend back—then pay for the hotel for the week.  Hell, pay through ‘til the new year!  Don’t leave yourself with an escape plan because then you’ll never fully commit.  And if you don’t fully commit to seeing if there’s anything between the two of you anymore, then you’ll always regret it and hate yourself for it.”

John laughed a little bitterly.  “We really need to be stationed together more often.  I think you’re the one who keeps me sane.”

Lorne chuckled.  “Yeah, that was a shit day when they re-assed us.”

“Agreed.”

They fell into silence for a couple minutes then John hesitantly asked, “You gonna hate me if I decide to stay here for Christmas?”

“Not at all,” Lorne responded, a smile in his voice.  “But you owe me a drink in the new year _and_ I want to meet him once you convince him to take you back.”

John sat up, grabbed his phone and turned off the speaker, pressed it to his ear.  “You’re awfully confident that I’ll succeed.”

“You’re charming.  And a good man.  And if you drop your walls for a fucking minute, he’ll take you back in a heartbeat.”  There was a sound in the background and Lorne sighed.  “Fuck.  That’s my sister.  I gotta go.  Keep me up to date, alright?  Merry Christmas, John.”

“Merry Christmas, Evan,” John replied softly and disconnected.  He sat there for a minute then cleaned up the remains of dinner.  Suddenly he wasn’t so hungry.  He needed to think, figure out what to do.  He wanted to stay here, he did.  Christmas with a family was something he’d wanted for so long, it was hard to turn down completely.

Rodney, on the other hand, was going to be a little trickier.  John hadn’t been lying when he’d said getting Rodney to acknowledge him was the first step.  John caught him looking over during rehearsal but he never said anything.  And John didn’t know how to start a conversation. 

And he didn’t know if he really wanted to see if there was still anything between them.  “Argh,” John groaned, laying down and throwing his arm over his eyes.  No wonder he preferred the military.  At least there, he knew what he was doing.  Out here, in the civilian world?  Totally out of his element.  And it sucked.

And yet . . . there was that niggling little voice in the back of his mind, telling him he’d regret it if he left without giving it a shot.  He might still crash and burn, but when had that bothered him?

 

* * *

 

“No. No no no no no no no.  This is not what—No.  Look, it needs to be stronger.  More durable.  We have to go back to the lab, make another.  Do I need to come back and help or can you handle it?”  Rodney paced the length of the guest room at his sister’s house, hands flying through the air as he tried to make himself understood.  It was late and he couldn’t sleep.  He’d been going back through test results, trying to figure out what needed to change in order to get this contract.  He needed this contract.  He had to get it.  Rodney’s main laptop lay open on top of his unmade bed, a video chat screen open on half the screen.  The results of the latest test were open on the other half.  They were not what Rodney wanted.

“Rodney, if I go back to the lab, it might not be ready in time.”  Zelenka huffed a breath and Rodney saw him shake his head through the screen.

“You say that, but I know it will be.”  Rodney went over and crouched down to look at his friend.  At the test results.  Not good enough.  Not nearly good enough.  “It has to be stronger.  It has to—to protect a helicopter when it gets shot down.”  His hands flapped.  “Strong enough to keep a jeep or—or Humvee from being blown to smithereens when it hits an IED.  It has to protect Jo—them.  The soldiers.  It has to protect the soldiers.”  He bit the inside of his cheek, hoping Radek hadn’t noticed his slip.

But of course he had.  Zelenka leaned forward.  “Protect who, Rodney?”

He shook his head quickly.  “The point is, this piece is scrapped.  Who’s in the lab with you today?”

“What is bothering you?  You are distracted.”

“Nothing,” Rodney snapped.  “I’m not distracted.  I’m focused.”

“You are distracted.  What has happened?  Did you fight with Jeannie?”

“No.  Well, not any more than we usually fight.”

“Then what is problem?  Because I know you are distracted; you know you are distracted; and we both know that the experiments will be derailed if you continue as you are.”  Zelenka pushed his glasses up his nose and leaned forward, peering at Rodney through the video chat.

Rodney sighed and slumped onto the bed, shifting the laptop so they could still see each other.  “My ex is here,” he admitted reluctantly.

The glasses came off.  “Ex?  Your ex?  You have ex?  You date?  Why did I not know this?  Do I know him?  What is his name?”

Rodney shook his head.  “No, you don’t kno—wait, I do too date!” he retorted, indignant.  “Just because I don’t scream it to the heavens doesn’t mean I don’t date!”  Radek didn’t need to know that most of his relationships never really made it past the first date.

Radek pulled back, holding both hands palm outward in a gesture of surrender, his glasses dangling from one hand.  “My apologies.  Rodney McKay dates and the whole world does not know.  Is Christmas miracle.”

Rodney scowled at him.  “I hate you.”

Radek, of course, ignored him.  “So . . . what is his name?”

Rodney’s jaw worked and he muttered, “John.”

“John.”  Putting his glasses back on, Radek crossed his arms, looking thoughtful.  “Is very common name.  What is surname?”  When Rodney remained silent, Radek sighed.  “Rodney, we both know I will find out eventually.  Will be quicker and easier to just tell me now.  Like ripping off band-aid.”

Rodney made a face.  Ugh.  This was not what he’d planned to discuss when he connected the chat with Radek.  “Sheppard.  His name’s John Sheppard,” Rodney finally said, and waited for his friend to connect the dots.

It didn’t take long.  Not long at all.  Radek’s glasses came off again and he put his face right up to the screen.  “Sheppard?  As in Sheppard Industries?  The same Sheppard Industries that is our partner?  You dated John Sheppard, black sheep of the Sheppard family, and you did not _tell_ me?!”

“It’s not like it was recent!” Rodney retorted.  “We dated in college, all the way through grad school.  Then it . . . ended.”

“Ended?”

“Yes.  Ended.”

“Ended how?”

“Ended as in we broke up.  What other definition of a relationship ending is there?”

“Why did you break up?  Did he break up with you?  Did you break up with him?”

Rodney rubbed his face, his shoulders slumping.  “I’m honestly not sure who did the breaking up.  Maybe him, maybe me.  All I remember is we fought over him enlisting in the air force and then we . . . . stopped talking.”

Radek shook his head, a smile playing on his face.  “This makes so much sense.  Why we partnered with Sheppard Industries in the first place, why you fight tooth and nail for every military contract that comes up . . . everyone knows the eldest Sheppard son joined the military instead of the family company.  Was big stink when news broke.  And now you use your research to keep him safe.  _Finally_ I have reason behind obsessiveness.  There is only one reason that you would do so.”

“What?” Rodney asked warily.  Radek was far too happy about this.

“Love,” Radek said brightly.  “You still love him!”

“What?” Rodney spluttered.  “No!  I don’t—there’s no—no.  Of course not.”

Radek hummed knowingly, pushing his glasses up his nose again.  Rodney really wished he’d get new ones or at least get these to fit right.  “Why is he in town?  Sheppard Industries does not have anything to do with small towns, far as I know.”

Rodney made a face and leaned back against the headboard.  “My niece’s class wrote Christmas cards to soldiers overseas, John got hers, wrote back and my sister clearly didn’t bother to proofread the next letter that Maddie sent because she gave John her address and told him to come visit.  Which he did.  He’s just here to meet her.”

“And how long has he been there?”

“. . . . nearly a week.”  He didn’t want to think about that.

“Mmhmm.  So he met Madison, met your sister and brother-in-law, and then just . . . . decided to stay in small town, Canada for no reason?”

“What are you getting at, Zelenka?” Rodney asked pointedly.

“You.”

Rodney blinked, the bluntness surprising and yet not.  Radek and Rodney had known each other since school, having been in the same doctorate program.  They fought over who had use of the lab one night, corrected each other’s math, and a reluctant friendship had been born.  When Rodney decided to go into government research and start his own tech company, Radek had been the first one on the payroll.  “Me?” he asked now, feeling dumbfounded.

Radek nodded.  “Yes.  John is not in town to meet child.  Oh, I believe that was original goal, but is not current goal.  John is in town because of you, because he is still in love with you.  And you are still in love with him.  Is very much Christmas miracle!”

Rodney’s mouth dropped open.  For once, he had no idea what to say.

Radek, however, did.  He pulled his glasses off and cleaned them on the hem of his shirt.  “I will go back to lab and find way to make stronger metal for further testing.  You will talk to John.  Is no coincidence that things happen this way.  I will call you in few days.  Bye!”

The chat screen went black before Rodney could think of what to say.

John was here . . . . for him?

Rodney had to admit, it was kind of nice seeing him.  Seeing how Maddie clearly adored him.

He buried his face in his hands.  That made two people in his life who said that he and John had met again on purpose.  Maybe he owed it to himself to find out . . . ?

Maybe he would talk to John, see if there was anything still between them. 

It didn’t have to go anywhere he didn’t want it to.  They could just—ease the tension, find a way to be friends and then go back to their separate lives.

Rodney lowered his hands and nodded decisively.  Right.  That’s what he would do.  No problem, right?


	6. Chapter Six

_“Mayday mayday . . . .”_

John’s head tossed and turned.

_Gunshots.  Coming from all directions._

He flipped over, fingers clutching at the blankets like he was reaching for the joystick of his helicopter.

_Lifeless eyes, staring up at him.  Accusing._

_A warning shout.  “We’re going down!”_

A huff of breath, rapid heartbeat, John’s eyes moving under his closed eyelids.

_Fire._

_“Get outta here.”_

John’s breathing grew labored, his forehead creasing as his brain rewound again and again.

_Blood seeping through his fingers._

_Gunshots._

_A grunted plea.  “Go.”_

He flipped over again, tangling himself in the covers.

_"Stay with me!”_

_The blood wouldn’t stop._

_"Shep . . . go.”_

_A frantic denial.  “I’m not leaving you!”_

A low moan slipped out.

_Dead eyes, focused out into the distance._

_"Dammit Holland, stay with me!”_

John jerked awake with a gasp.  He ran shaking hands over his sweaty face and sat up.  God, of course it would be that one.  He wasn’t all that surprised he was reliving Holland’s death.  He was, however, surprised that it had taken this long for the nightmares to start up.  He’d been in Maple Ridge nearly a week and had managed to sleep fairly decently up til now.

_“Go on, save yourself.”_

John shoved the heels of his hands into his eyes, still hearing the echo of Holland’s voice.  His eyes burned.  He flung the covers aside forcefully then climbed out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom.  His side screamed with the movement and it was like he’d just gotten hurt instead of being injured days ago.  John flicked on the light and yanked his sweaty shirt off, letting it fall to the tiled floor, then turned on the faucet and threw a couple handfuls of cold water onto his face.

Bracing his hands on either side of the sink, John hung his head, eyes closed, and just stood there.  Into the silence came the sound of water dripping from his face to the porcelain sink as he struggled to get his ragged breathing under control.  Feeling the air cool his sweat-covered body, John tried to shove the memories back into their boxes.  When a shiver rippled through him a few minutes later, John fumbled for one of the towels and pressed it against his damp face.

Lifting his head, John caught sight of his face in the mirror and winced.  He could still see the remembered pain and fear in his eyes, in the shadows, in the bags under his eyes.  He threw the towel onto the counter and walked out of the bathroom, leaving his shirt on the floor.

A glance at the hotel-issued alarm clock next to the bed informed him it was 3:48 in the morning.  Great.  Fucking great.  John ran a hand through his hair and thought.  He knew from experience that there was no way he was going to be able to get back to sleep tonight but it was too early for anything to be on TV that would be interesting enough to distract him.

He rummaged in his suitcase for a minute before pulling out a pair of sweats and a hoodie.  John changed into them, tugged on a pair of sneakers, shoved his wallet and phone into a pocket and headed downstairs.  Physical exercise was typically a good outlet; maybe the receptionist knew a good place to go for a run.

 

* * *

 

Jeannie leaned on the piano, one hand on her hip, and asked, “Have you talked to him yet?”

Rodney didn’t bother looking up.  “We interact.  I don’t know what more you want.”

“I want you to be happy, Mer.”

He sighed.  “I am happy.  I like my work, Jeannie.  I don’t need to date someone to be happy.”

She grinned.  “So you admit you still like him!”

“No!  I admit no such thing.”  Rodney averted his gaze and fussed with the organization of his music books.  Radek’s observations from before were still rattling around in his brain and he was still feeling off kilter at the thought that John might be sticking around because he still had feelings for Rodney.

“Mer,” his sister sighed. 

“I’ll get around to it,” he relented.

“Soon,” she said emphatically and walked away.

Rodney scowled after her then glanced up at the stage.  John was talking with a couple guys, looking like he was explaining something.  John glanced over at him as the impromptu meeting broke up and something crossed his face, something that had Rodney frowning, before John waved a hand in a acknowledgement then turned away.

Rodney waved back on reflex then watched him.  Something was off.  He’d noticed it before with Madison and it was there again today.  His mouth twisted in thought as he studied his former boyfriend.  He hated puzzles.  Or, rather, he enjoyed solving puzzles.  And right now, John Sheppard was a puzzle that itched at him to solve.

Well damn.  He was going to have to solve it or drive himself nuts.

 

* * *

 

John grabbed hold of one of the boxes and lifted it up onto the ladder, climbed up after it, then hoisted it up so he had it sitting on the top of the ladder.  It was heavier than expected and it took him a minute to make sure it was balanced enough for him to climb the rest of the way up.  Today was decorating day for a couple of the set pieces.  He finally had enough of them completely built—John was certain none of the men involved with the pageant had any experience working with tools.

With a shake of his head, John pulled out a few nails, tucked them in his mouth, then undid the flaps on the box.  Reaching in, he grabbed the edge of the roll of fake snow and pulled so that it reached the far corner.  Santa’s Workshop was first on his list for fake snow since they only had a couple rolls of it.  John had sent a couple of the guys out with orders to get more, along with a list of supplies to get so they could finish the rest of the set. 

Behind him, he could hear Jeannie talking to the kids, giving them tips and generally being the really nice lady she was.  There were occasional bursts of music when Rodney played intros or bits of song for the rehearsals.  There wasn’t much they could do without the full sets.  John was trying hard to get things done, but it being Friday, there weren’t that many people working.  John didn’t mind working alone, though; it wasn’t like he had much else to do.  He had a rental car, a hotel room, and zero plans until the 26th when he had to send Landry his final decision. 

. . . . . and he wanted to be tired enough that he didn’t dream so he worked harder than usual the last couple days.  He hadn’t gotten much sleep since his nightmares decided to make their reappearance, plus his wound was paining him again and he really wasn’t a fan of pain pills.  Exercise was the only thing to push away the feelings his nightmares left him with but it was starting to take its toll on his fatigued body.

Forcing his mind back to the present, John pulled a nail from the several he’d stuck in his mouth for easy access, stuck it into the snow and held it against the wood with his left hand.  Pulling his hammer free of the tool belt with his right hand, John leaned back a little bit, hooking his foot around the ladder, and hit the nail.

It bent.

Fuck. 

Letting the now useless nail drop to the floor, John freed another one from between his teeth and tried again, adjusting the angle of his swing so that this time it went in as it should with a couple whacks.  The ladder rocked slightly but it quickly steadied when he shifted his weight.  John moved the roll of snow so that it kind of created a little bit of a wave then repeated his actions.

Three feet of fake snow and eleven nails later—three-fourths of them lying uselessly on the floor—John was beyond frustrated.  He couldn’t tell if it was the snow or his nail but the coordination it was taking to hammer the damn snow in was annoying, to say the least.  He needed to finish the damn building.  It was finally painted; all it needed was the snow and a few decorations and then it was done.  Unfortunately, the snow was proving to be the most difficult part of the job.  With a huff, John shifted the roll of fake snow another few inches down, holding his hammer in his left hand as he reached into the box to take up the slack a bit . . .

And promptly knocked the box onto the floor.  Dropping the hammer on the roof, John lunged for the box, straining his wound.  With a sharp intake of breath, John stopped to steady himself, pressing a hand to his side with a grimace, and missed the box as it fell past him, the roll of fake snow tumbling out of the box and unspooling onto the floor. 

Fucking . . . John sighed through his teeth, letting his head drop against the ladder.  Today was just not his day.

“Need a hand?”

John’s head snapped up and he half-twisted to look down at the person offering assistance, the thanks dying on his tongue as he saw who it was.  His pain completely forgotten, John stared in shock because—

Rodney McKay was looking up at him, looking far too cute in jeans and a red-and-blue striped sweater, hands on his hips.

John’s first thought—once his brain restarted—was _holy shit Rodney’s finally talking to me!_   What he managed to say, thankfully, was nothing along those lines.  “I’d appreciate it, but don’t you have rehearsal?  I thought I heard you playing earlier.”

Rodney shook his head then bent down and grabbed the box, reaching for the roll of fake snow.  “Ended half an hour ago and it apparently took what was left of your workforce with it.  What even is this?”  The roll of fake snow now reached from where it was nailed to the set piece, around the far side of the ladder, and onto the floor.

John looked around, startled to find that Rodney was right.  The kids were gone, taking their parents with them.  He saw Jeannie sitting in one of the rows, flipping through something; a couple parents standing in an aisle.  Maddie was nowhere to be seen.  So much for his supplies.  Did they even go out or did they just ditch?  Times like this, John found himself missing the military.  At least then he knew things would get done in a timely manner.  “It’s fake snow.  For Santa’s Workshop.  Or supposed to be, anyway.  It’s not exactly cooperating.” 

“Yeah, I can see that, since you’ve thrown it on the floor.”  Rodney shoved the roll into the box and handed it up to John.  John took it and settled it on his hip, still feeling stunned that Rodney was willingly talking to him.  It had taken days for him to simply acknowledge John existed, let alone engage in societal pleasantries.  John, himself, had been swinging between being perfectly okay with the situation and wanting desperately to change it.  So to have him here, talking and offering to help?  _Yeah, definitely a good thing,_ he thought.  Rodney said, “Be right back.”

John blinked as Rodney walked away.  What?  Shaking his head, John resettled the box on top of the ladder and started to roll up the rest of the slack.  He’d just gathered the last of it when Rodney returned, setting a ladder up next to his.  John blinked again.  “What are you doing?”

Rodney frowned at him.  “You used to be quicker on the uptake than this, as I remember.  I’m helping, dumbass.  Here, give me the box.  I’ll work on this end and we’ll meet in the middle, okay?”

_He thinks about me?_ John tried to wrap his brain around that fact but his thoughts derailed when Rodney pulled out a hammer.  He’d gotten a tool belt.  Oh god that was hot.  That should not be hot.  Why was that hot?

“You okay?”

John nodded, feeling his ears burn, and his voice came out a little hoarse.  “Yeah.  Fine.  Why?”

Rodney shrugged, still frowning a little at him.  “No reason.”  His tone was light but John could feel his gaze on him as they started to work.  They separated the snow fluff and John put a couple nails between his teeth again for easier access then rescued his hammer from the roof.  Meanwhile, Rodney had tugged a handful of snow free and was pressing it against the wood.  John quickly went back to work but his gaze drifted over to Rodney far more than it should.

They worked in silence, only talking when they had to move to another side of the building, but it was still the most comfortable they’d been in each other’s presences since John had shown up in town.

It was nice.

 

* * *

 

Unknown to them, Jeannie sat in the theatre, chin in hand, watching the two men with a fond smile, happy that her plans were coming to fruition.  All she had to do now was convince them that they were each other’s true loves and figure out how to get John to stay in town, for good.

Lucky for them, she had a brilliant idea.  She just needed to talk to John before he left for the day.

 

* * *

 

Folding the ladder, John tipped it so he could lift it onto his shoulder.  His side protested as he lifted it and he bit back a wince.  _Quit being a baby, Sheppard_ , he told himself.  _Not like you haven’t been hurt before.  Move your ass!_   Sometimes it helped if he ordered himself around.

Rodney asked tentatively, “Are—are you okay?”

“Fine,” he grunted, forcing himself to straighten through the pain.  Rodney faced him, concern on his face but John ignored it, grabbing for the empty boxes.  This time, he couldn’t hide the wince or the sharp gasp as his side protested again, loudly and painfully.  The cardboard flaps of the box slipped from his fingers and the ladder wobbled precariously.

The ladder steadied.  “Okay, you are not fine,” Rodney said, holding up the ladder.  “Put this down.  Where does it hurt?”

John sighed and let Rodney help him lower the ladder to lean against the side of Santa’s Workshop.  “It’s nothing, Rodney.  I’m fine; really.”

With a scowl—and oh, that was achingly familiar—Rodney put his hands on his hips and retorted, “No.  You’re not.”  He then proceeded to reach for the hem of John’s T-shirt, managing to yank it up enough to reveal the edge of the bandage before John completely registered what was happening.  He tried to pull away but the motion caused a jab of pain and Rodney pulled his shirt up.  Rodney breathed in sharply when the white bandage was revealed.  His gaze stuttered up to meet John’s.

No.  Nope.  Not talking about this.  John’s brain immediately shied away.  It was bad enough John saw it every night; he most certainly did not need to see it during the day as well.  Casually, like it was a totally normal thing to be occurring, John freed his shirt from Rodney’s now slackened grip and tugged it down, making sure not to dislodge the tape.

“What happened?” Rodney asked softly.

John swallowed, his fingers bunching in the fabric.  Forcing his voice to remain light, he replied, “Accident overseas.  Nothing to talk about.”  Not sure what to do with his hands now that he didn’t have his shirt to grip, John finally settled for shoving them into his jeans pockets and looked anywhere but at Rodney.  He really didn’t want to see the other man’s expression.  If Rodney looked at him with pity . . . . or worse, if Rodney looked at him with nothing at all . . .

“ _John_ . . .” Rodney murmured and it took everything he had not to react to that.  He turned away and squeezed his eyes shut tight.  The sound of his name on Rodney’s lips . . . and it was full of emotion.  Emotion that John really did not want to unpack right then, not when his own heart and mind were in turmoil.

God, he needed a drink.  He was starting to wish he’d taken Lorne up on his offer, that he’d gone back to D.C., found his friend and a bar and gotten fantastically drunk.

Keeping his back to Rodney, John reached for the ladder and said, “Thanks for the assistance.  I can handle clean-up, if you want to go find Jeannie.”  Feeling like a coward, he settled the ladder on his shoulders and walked away, leaving Rodney staring after him.

 

* * *

 

Rodney stood next to the building designated Santa’s Workshop and tried to wrap his mind around what had just happened.  Other than the fact that he’d just willingly done physical labor—which was so totally not him—but John had looked like he’d needed the help.  And so Rodney had found himself walking over there and then heard himself offer assistance and John had _accepted_ said assistance.

Clearly Radek and Jeannie were getting to him.

John was injured.  That bandage . . . damn it, he’d _known_ something was off with John.  He’d _known_ it!  Rodney undid the hooks on his tool belt, heading for the back to put it away, still thinking about that square of white. 

When John had winced, he hadn’t thought.  He’d just reached for John’s shirt to see if he’d gotten a nail or a splinter or something.  If he _had_ been thinking, he wouldn’t have touched John so freely.

But he had.

And now Rodney had seen something that wouldn’t go away.

An accident overseas?  _Yeah, right_ , Rodney scoffed mentally.  _More like a war wound_.

He stopped in his tracks, the color draining from his face as the thought registered.

_Oh god_.  Oh god, John had gotten hurt overseas.  In the Middle East, where he’d been stationed.  And he’d gotten hurt while fighting or—or when a vehicle got hit.  Which meant Rodney’s technology hadn’t helped.  Meaning John was here because he’d gotten injured.  And didn’t want to talk about it.  Oh god.  Oh no. No no no no no . . .

Rodney realized he was close to having a panic attack and forced himself to calm down.  John was alive, after all.  No need to panic.  And it wasn’t like John, you know, _meant_ that much to him.  Rodney was just concerned.  Yeah.  It was friendly concern.  Because that was all they were going to be after all this.  Friends.  And friends got concerned when their friends were hurt.

He needed to talk to Radek.  They _had_ to get this contract.  With a firm nod, Rodney deposited his borrowed tool belt on a bench in the back and headed back out to the main area to get his coat.  It was nothing.  The tech just needed to be better.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, John.  You heading out?”

“Hey, Jeannie.  Yeah, not much more I can do today.  Kids sounded pretty good, though.  Kinda nice to have the music in the background.”  John smiled at her as he shrugged into his jacket.

She smiled back, already dressed to leave.  “Thanks.  Yeah, we’ve got a good group of performers.  I think the pageant’s going to be amazing this year; especially with these fantastic sets you’ve been working on.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, feeling his ears burn with embarrassment.  “It’s really nothing.  The guys did a lot before I came along.”

“Not true.  You’ve been a huge help,” Jeannie assured him, reaching out to squeeze his arm lightly.

“Ah, well, thanks, I guess.”

She rubbed her hands together.  “So listen, I promised Maddie we’d go get our tree tomorrow and I thought you’d like to come with us.  I know you can’t put a tree in your hotel room but you can help pick out one with us.  It’ll be fun.  What do you think?”

John stared at her.  There were several things in there that demanded clarification but what he wanted to say was not what came out.  He found himself repeating slowly, “Pick . . . _out_ a tree?”  What did she mean pick _out_ a tree?  Like picking out a car?  Picking out a piece of clothing?

From the look on her face, Jeannie apparently thought that he’d said the most alien thing he could possibly say.  Which was exactly how he felt about what she’d said.  She blinked, confusion clear in her face and voice as she responded, “Well, yeah.  I mean, I know it’s been awhile but haven’t you ever—” Jeannie stumbled to a halt.

John realized his emotions were showing and quickly turned away to pick up his scarf.

Jeannie said softly, “You’ve never picked out a tree, have you, John?”

Well this was awkward.  He shook his head, feeling uncomfortable with the topic as well as the sympathy clear on her face.  John busied himself with wrapping the scarf around his neck and adjusting it repeatedly so he didn’t have to answer.  Tugging his gloves out of his pocket, he made to leave but Jeannie grabbed his elbow.

“Wait.” 

John stopped but didn’t turn around, his muscles tense.

“Okay,” Jeannie said, “so you didn’t have a real tree growing up.  Did you have fake trees to decorate then?”

John closed his eyes and made a face.  Clearly he wasn’t getting out of this extremely uncomfortable conversation so he turned around and said, as offhandedly as he could, “We had staff for that.”

He remembered one year in particular, asking his parents if they could decorate one of the trees themselves that year.  How his mom had given his father a weird look before she had smiled at John and held him close, and told him she’d see if she could find a little tree he could put in his bedroom instead.  She’d managed to get a little tree that they stuck in a corner of the library and decorated with homemade ornaments.  John thought he was maybe seven or eight then, Dave barely old enough to understand what Christmas was.  It was the year he learned that Sheppards were not supposed to enjoy holidays.  It was also the year he learned to hide the things he truly cared about, that what he wanted didn’t matter to his father.  John remembered trying to help the staff decorate when Dad wasn’t around . . . . remembered the lecture and subsequent beating he’d gotten when his dad had found out.

John could still hear Dad’s voice, sounding with each smack of the belt . . . _“You don’t touch the decorations!  You are a Sheppard.  You are above such menial labor.  That’s why we have staff.  I catch you near them again and this will seem like nothing!”_

“Staff.”  Jeannie stared at him, her hand falling back to her side.  John fidgeted with his gloves.  “So . . . you’ve never decorated a tree, never picked out a real tree from a Christmas tree lot?”

And there’s the pity.  Yup.  Never failed.  This was why he preferred to be alone at the holidays.  Once again, John thought longingly of the idea of finding a cabin in the middle of nowhere.  No people.  No awkward explanations about the shithole that was his family.  No decisions to make.  He shrugged, shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and said, an edge now in his voice, “I’ve been living amongst hundreds of sweaty, disgusting men and slightly less disgusting women in a desert for years and before that—” John just barely managed to cut himself off before revealing more than he cared to, finishing with, “I’ve never had what you’d call a _real_ Christmas, okay?  Not since I was little.”

Jeannie stuttered, “I—I guess I just assumed you meant recently.  You know, on base or something.   I assume the air force isn’t really one for decorating but John . . . you’ve never—never put up a tree?  Not once?”

John shook his head, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to attempt to explain the dysfunctional group of people he shared blood with, when Rodney joined them.

Rodney answered his sister’s question, “John’s family didn’t do holidays, Jeannie.  Not like we do.  Or you do, anyway.”  John stared at him, wondering how he remembered that, but Rodney avoided his gaze.  “The Sheppards only decorated for Christmas and other holidays because it was expected of them and the Sheppards are good at doing what’s expected of them.”  John winced at the acid in Rodney’s voice at the end.  Then Rodney glanced at him and added gruffly, “Well, most of them do what’s expected of them, anyway.”

John lifted an eyebrow, rather stunned at the tacit acknowledgement of the shit John went through during his attempt to choose his own path in life.  It wasn’t just a sore topic between him and his father, it also happened to be a very sore/tender subject between him and Rodney—and hey, look at that, John thought in surprise.  There might actually be a change for the better in their relationship.  Huh.  And that despite John shutting him down earlier.

Jeannie looked between them, her expression telling John that she clearly knew she was missing something but didn’t know how to ask about it.  After a minute of John awkwardly staring at Rodney and Rodney looking anywhere but at him, Jeannie clapped her hands.  “We’ll just have to fix that then!”

They both turned to stare at her.  John asked warily, “What does that mean?”

“It means,” Jeannie beamed at him, “that you’ll come by tomorrow about eleven or so and we’ll go pick out a tree.  Then you’ll help us decorate it.  This’ll be great.  Your first tree!  Maddie’s going to be so excited.  We’ll see you tomorrow, John!”  She walked away before John or Rodney could say anything.

John raised an eyebrow, feeling a little bewildered.   “She, uh, she doesn’t really give a guy a chance to say no . . . does she?”

Rodney gave him a quick smile.  “No.  Not really.”

John definitely did not smile back.  And he absolutely did not feel a little flip in his stomach when Rodney’s smile widened briefly before hurrying after his sister.

A change in their relationship just meant they were friends.  John was stupid to hope for more, especially with that goddamned decision looming ever closer.

But he found himself smiling again at the thought of spending Saturday with the Millers.  What would it be like to actually decorate a tree?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, had to throw in some angst about now, right? ;D


	7. Chapter Seven

 “Whoa,” John said, stepping out of the Millers’ car.  “So this is a tree lot, huh?  Somehow I imagined it more . . . I don’t know.  Commercialized.  Like, walk down an aisle and grab one sort of thing.”

Rodney shoved him aside and stepped out, shutting the car door behind him.  “It’s a tree farm, emphasis on the word _farm_.  What about that would make you think it would be commercialized?”

_Always with the sarcasm_ , John thought with a hint of amusement, shifting to the side to let him by.  Jeannie joined them, tossing the strap of her purse over a shoulder.  “It’s family-owned, been in Halling’s family for generations.  He’s training his son, Jinto, to run the business.  Such a sweet boy.  Kaleb and I have been coming here for our trees since we moved to town.  Come on, you’ll love it.”

Hooking her arm through John’s, she tugged him along.  Kaleb fell into step with them, while Madison ran ahead which left Rodney trailing behind.  As they walked, John stared, his head swiveling to try and take it all in.  He’d never been to a tree farm before, never knew they even existed.  It was kinda cool.

When John had pulled up to the Millers’ house a couple hours ago, eleven o’clock on the dot, he’d been welcomed into chaos.  Rodney was in his room, apparently yelling at someone.  Jeannie couldn’t find her purse.  Maddie couldn’t find her glove and no, she couldn’t wear the purple gloves because they didn’t match her pink coat, Dad.  Kaleb had given John an exasperated look and told him to have a seat before heading off to search for the missing glove.  Half an hour later, John had been squished into the backseat of a minivan next to Rodney, with Madison at the other end, her face pressed against the window most of the way.

Kaleb had parked along the edge of the gravel path in the first spot they’d found.  A week before Christmas and there were still tons of people here.  There was a barn with a steady stream of people going in and out, a small store with more people and yet more people going by with axes and sleds and wrapped trees that were being paid for or tied to car tops.  There was laughter and loud conversations and music playing over it all.  Whole families were here and John caught the scent of hot chocolate and popcorn, his stomach grumbling at the enticing smell.

The closer to the crowd they got, though, the tenser John got.  So loud.  So many people.  Clearing his throat, John asked, “So what exactly does one do to pick out a tree?”

On Jeannie’s other side, Kaleb explained, “All the trees that are available for purchase are along that field over there,” and he pointed in a direction John hadn’t looked yet.  Rows and rows of evergreens stretched out to the horizon.  “You get to pick whichever one you want then you can either chop it down yourself or grab one of the employees to do it for you.  The store sells ornaments and other decorations and there’s usually caramel corn and hot chocolate and such for sale.  Maddie likes the caramel corn, don’t you, kiddo?”

Madison turned around, skipping backwards as she grinned at her dad.  “We get some every year,” she informed John brightly.  “I’ll share mine with you.” 

Reaching the field of trees, Jeannie said something to Kaleb but John was too busy staring.  How the hell were they supposed to pick one out?  They all looked the same!  A tiny hand slipped into his and he looked down at the little girl who’d given him a bit of Christmas cheer when he’d had none.

Madison smiled up at him and tugged.  “Come on, Colonel John!  I’ll show you how to pick out the bestest tree!”

John laughed and let himself be pulled into the forest by the eight-year-old.

 

* * *

 

“Nope, not big enough,” Maddie said, tugging him along.  “Not that one, either.  Not Christmasy enough.  No, too small.”

Apparently there were rules to picking out a Christmas tree, as John quickly found out.  Madison had interesting criteria as she pulled John down the rows.  Kaleb, Jeannie, and Rodney followed a few steps behind.

Maddie stopped in front of one and tilted her head to the side.  Then she shook her head and moved on.  John asked, “What’s wrong with this one?”

“Too skinny.”

John glanced back at it.  It looked fine to him.  “You wanna let me in on what we’re looking for here, kiddo?”

Madison looked over her shoulder at him.  “You’ll know it when you see it.  That’s what Mommy always says.”

“Ah.”  John nodded, still lost but surprisingly willing to let things progress at the speed of an eight-year-old.

 

* * *

 

“He’s good with her,” Jeannie said quietly.

Rodney cut her a sideways look and shrugged.  “John was always good with kids.  It helped that he acted like one most of the time.”

A few feet away, John and Madison were talking, his dark head close to her blonde one.  He’d gone grocery shopping faster than this but Rodney had to admit there was something sweet about how John interacted with his niece.  It caused something warm and painful to bloom in his chest every time.

“So how are things between the two of you?” Jeannie asked as the pair moved down the aisle.  She, Rodney and Kaleb followed, although at her question, Kaleb moved to join John and Maddie, leaving the siblings to talk.

“What do you mean?”

“I _mean_ , how are things?  Or are you forgetting that you worked in close proximity to him for several hours and then rescued him from answering an uncomfortable question about his family?”

“Okay, first of all?  We worked.  As in, did not talk.  And second, it wouldn’t be uncomfortable if you would stop pushing.”  Rodney scowled at her.  He’d agreed to be nice to the man; he did not agree to be interrogated over things outside his control.

“Is the spark there?  Are the old feelings coming back?  Am I going to have to get Maddie to start calling him Uncle John instead of Colonel John?”

Kaleb called out, interrupting them and unconsciously saving Rodney from having to answer, “Hey hun?”

She turned.  “Yeah, babe?”

“You wanted two, right?  Or three?”

Rodney watched John’s head whip around, surprise on his face as the siblings joined the group.  Madison still had hold of John’s hand, he noticed with amusement.  John asked, “Two or three?  I know my family did multiple trees but we had a bigger house.  If you don’t mind me saying so, you don’t exactly have the space for more than one.”

“I want this one for home, Mommy!”

“No worries, sweetie.  This one’s perfect for the living room at home.”  Jeannie reached out to finger the needles on the closest tree.  “One’s for the family and one for the pageant.  We’ll need a fairly large one for the center stage but maybe you’re right.  Maybe we do need a third . . .”

Rodney rolled his eyes.  “Two is fine, Jeannie.  With the sets and the kids, you won’t have room for more than one tree up there, anyway.”

“You’re right.”  She smiled at John.  “And they’re wonderful sets, too.  We wouldn’t want to pull the audience’s attention from that.”

John rubbed the back of his neck and changed the subject.  “So how do we get the tree out of here?”

“Well,” Kaleb said with a grin towards his wife, “we can chop it down ourselves or we can go grab one of the employees to chop it down for us.”

Rodney shoved his gloved hands into his coat pockets and announced, “There’s no way I’m chopping down a tree.  My vote is for the employee.  That’s what they’re here for, anyway.”

John offered, “I can do it.  No problem.”

Maddie clapped her hands and jumped up and down. 

But he was injured!  Rodney started to say that but John threw him a frown.  Rodney blinked.  Opened his mouth again.

John shook his head minutely.

Okay.  Why didn’t John want the others to know he was hurt?  Rodney frowned back at him but kept silent.

“Alright then, John and I can take care of chopping down the family tree,” Kaleb agreed.  “John, you good with keeping an eye on it while I go get an ax and sled?  Jeannie, why don’t you guys go find a tree for the pageant stage?”  He headed off as John moved to guard the tree, making Madison laugh as he took an exaggerated stance.

John stopped Rodney with a hand on his elbow when he moved to join his sister and muttered in a low voice, “Thanks, for not saying anything.”

Pulling free, Rodney shivered at the feel of John’s breath on his ear and muttered back, “You’re not welcome.  Don’t lie to my niece, John.”

John sighed.  “I’m not lying.  I’m fine.  I just don’t want Jeannie or the kid worrying over nothing, that’s all.”

“Sure you are,” Rodney responded and walked away.  Not like he needed the reminder that John kept secrets.  At least this one wasn’t as bad as the one that broke his heart.

As he joined the girls, Jeannie asked, “What did John want?”

“Nothing.  What kind of tree do you want for the stage, munchkin?” Rodney asked, successfully diverting the conversational track.  He could feel John’s eyes on him but when he turned around, John was looking the other direction, watching Kaleb head back.

 

* * *

 

It took another hour to find one that fit both Madison’s and Jeannie’s criteria for a pageant tree.  By now, Rodney was cranky and hungry and his feet were cold.  He was only half-listening to Maddie chattering on about Christmas with the kid hauling the tree as he trudged back to the main area. 

“Mer,” Jeannie said, catching his attention.  She tilted her head to the side.  “Why don’t you and Maddie grab hot chocolates for the group while Kaleb and I pay for the trees?”

Anything to get warm, even slightly.  “Come on, brat.”  Rodney stomped away, his niece skipping along beside him.

“Do you think Colonel John likes hot chocolate, Uncle Mer?” she asked as they got in line at the stand.

“I’m sure he does,” Rodney answered shortly.

She bounced on the toes of her boots then looked up at him.  “Do you like Colonel John?”

He blinked down at her, startled out of his funk.  “What?”

“Mommy says you used to be friends but not like me and Jinto friends.  Like her and daddy friends.”  She made a face.  “I don’t wanna kiss Jinto like Mommy and Daddy do.  Do you want to kiss Colonel John, Uncle Mer?  I like Colonel John.  Do you like Colonel John?”

What could he say that wouldn’t be a bald-faced lie but also not scar her or turn her against John?  He stepped forward in line.  “Uh, y—yeah.  I was friends with him, a long time ago.  But we haven’t talked in a . . . a long time.”  Rodney frowned.  John regretted that separation, he knew.  But he was realizing, albeit slowly, that he did, too.  And he was finding that he kind of wanted to see if the old feelings were still there.

Then it was their turn at the stand and Rodney ordered, “Five hot chocolates to go.”

“And caramel corn!” Maddie chimed in.

Rodney shook his head, but added, “And two bags of caramel corn.”  Exchanging money for cups, Rodney let Maddie carry the bags.  “But no snacking,” he warned her.  “Those are to share, got it?”

She nodded, carefully cuddling the bags to her chest as they headed to the parking area.  “I’m gonna share mine with Colonel John.  Mommy says he needs to ‘member what real Christmas is like.  Oh, look there’s Daddy!  Daddy, Colonel John, we got hot chocolate and caramel corn!”  She waved as they approached the car.

Rodney shook his head with a small smile, watching her obvious delight with everything.  It was as exhausting as it was entertaining.  So that was why Jeannie invited John to go tree shopping.  She thought John needed a real Christmas.  Well, if that was true, then this would be John’s first.

As Rodney approached their parking spot, he could see that there was a tree lying horizontal on the roof of the minivan and the sliding doors on either side were open.  Rodney assumed this was the tree that was to be the family tree.  He absently wondered how they were going to get the other tree home.  John and Kaleb stood in the open doorways and, as Rodney and Madison joined them, Kaleb tossed a rope over the tree to John.  John then grasped hold of it with both hands and tugged, using the taut rope to lean back before gripping higher and reaching inside the car to tie it off.

Rodney stared at John, at the joy on his face as he hopped down.  He felt his face flush as John caught him staring, then ducked his head when John shot him a grin.  Rodney found himself returning it, noting the sparkle in John’s eyes.  He certainly didn’t look like he’d exacerbated his injury.  In fact, John looked like he was having fun.  There was a tightness in his chest that certainly hadn’t been there before.  Rodney attributed it to the cold.  It certainly wasn’t caused by the first real smile he’d seen on John in twenty years. 

What would John do if Rodney kissed him?

“Colonel John!” Madison said loudly and held out a bag.  “We got caramel corn and hot chocolate!  Do you like that?”

Rodney started, and shook his head, trying to get rid of that pesky thought.  Where had that come from?

Kaleb came around the other side of the van and took one of the cups from Rodney, taking a sip.  “Thanks, Rodney.”  He took another cup and handed it to John

John sat on the bumper, stretched his legs out in front of him, and took a sip.  His gloved hands wrapped around the Styrofoam as he drank.  “Mmm, that’s good.  Hits the spot.  Thanks.”

Rodney cleared his throat, watching John’s Adam’s apple bob.  “Welcome.  Where’s Jeannie?”

“She’s inside, arranging for delivery of the other tree then we can head out.  It actually shouldn’t take this long,” Kaleb answered.  “I’ll go check on her.  Be right back.”

Madison sat next to John and opened one of the bags, offering it to John.  “You get first dibs!”

John laughed a little and took a handful of the caramel corn, settled his cup between his legs, then took a piece and tossed it into the air, catching it with his mouth.  Madison giggled and demanded, “Again!”

John obliged her and Rodney went to set the remaining cups down on the floor of the car before he dropped them.  As he sipped at his own, he heard more giggling and John’s murmured voice and went back to find Madison tossing kernels into the air and missing.

She frowned and he saw a few kernels in the snow.  She looked up at John and pouted, “I can’t do it.  It’s too hard.”

John tossed one in the air in front of him and caught it in his mouth, winking at Rodney as he did so.  Rodney’s stomach flipped.  “It takes a lot of coordination and practice, kiddo.  Keep trying.  You’ll get it one day.”

Madison noticed his presence then and held out the bag to him.  “Can you do it, Uncle Mer?”

“I, uh, I don’t—”

“ _Please_ , Uncle Mer?”

“Yeah,” John chimed in, “give it a shot, McKay.”

Rodney frowned at him, wondering at the sudden warmth directed at him.  Up until now, they’d been clearly keeping each other at arm’s length.  Why was John all of a sudden flir—oh no.  No no no, there was no way.  John was not flirting with him!  He couldn’t be.

Could he?

Did Rodney want him to be?

Oh god, when had all this become so complicated?

Maddie looked up at him pleadingly and John quirked an eyebrow, a challenge in his gaze.  Shoving all thoughts involving John aside, Rodney set his jaw and stuck his hand in the bag.  It was all just physics.  How hard could it be?  Rodney resolutely tossed a kernel into the air, opened his mouth—

And had it bounce off his nose to land in the snow.

John burst out laughing, then quickly covered his mouth but the laughter danced in his eyes.  Rodney tried to scowl at him but then Maddie’s giggles drew his attention which only set John off again.  A grin fought its way onto his face and then Rodney was laughing, too.

“What’s so funny?” Jeannie asked, joining them.

“Nothing,” Rodney and John chorused and Maddie giggled again.

“Uh huh,” Jeannie said knowingly, looking between them and raising an eyebrow at him.

Rodney simply shrugged and asked, “Ready to go?  I’m freezing.”

“Yeah . . . Halling’s going to deliver the other tree to the theatre on Monday.”  She looked from Rodney to John one more time then focused on her daughter.  “What do you say we get this tree all decorated, huh, Maddie?”

“Yeah!” Madison answered and hurried to climb into the minivan, claiming the far window seat yet again.

Leaving Rodney to squish into the backseat next to John.  Again.

Only this time, it wasn’t nearly as awkward as it had been before.  In fact, it was nice, having John close.  Rodney glanced at John out of the corner of his eye as Kaleb started the drive back to town.  John was nodding his head as Madison went on and on about the kinds of ornaments they had, like he was actually paying attention.  And maybe he was.  Rodney could see that John genuinely liked the kid and she clearly liked him.

Radek’s words rang in his mind again, _John is not in town to meet child . . . . John is in town because of you, because he is still in love with you._   Something had clearly changed in John’s mind for him to be flirting.  Or was it not flirting?  Did he want it to be flirting?

John turned his head at that point, catching Rodney’s eye and lifting an eyebrow in a silent question.  Rodney flushed and turned away.

Maybe he wanted it to be flirting.  But it didn’t change the fact that John wasn’t staying.  He wasn’t one to stay.

Besides, John was military and had a war to fight and Rodney had experiments to work on that would take up most of his time.

A moment of lightheartedness meant nothing more than that they could maybe be friends by the end of John’s stay in Maple Ridge.  That was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've honestly never picked out a real Christmas tree (we have a fake in my house) but I think I've watched enough Hallmark Christmas movies to understand it :D


	8. Chapter Eight

John was having fun.

It surprised him, how much fun he was having. 

Although, if he were being honest, the fact that they Millers included him so easily into their Christmas traditions definitely played a factor.  And the thing with the caramel corn . . . it was a mark of how comfortable he’d felt with them that he’d allowed himself that moment of teasing Rodney.

“Okay, next question!” Madison screwed her little face up in thought as John took the string of lights from Kaleb and wound it around the branches before handing it off.  She wore a Santa hat and bounced a little in her socks.  “Favorite Christmas movie!”

She’d been plying them—but mostly John—with questions since the boxes of decorations had been opened.  Rodney sat on the couch, untangling the second string of lights, with much cursing and chastising of said cursing from Jeannie.  Madison was standing in the middle of the living room, supervising, while Kaleb and John put the first string of lights up.  Jeannie was in the kitchen, making dinner, but still answering questions.  Christmas music played in the background, just loud enough to hear but not loud enough to disrupt the conversations.  Jeannie had convinced him to stay for dinner.  He’d originally planned to help set the tree up and leave but she’d played the guilt card—she had promised him home cooked meals for helping out with the sets and he hadn’t come by yet.

Jeannie called out her answer, “ _Elf_!”

“That is a horrible choice,” Rodney immediately responded. 

“I like that one,” Kaleb agreed.  “But I think I’m going with _Rudolph_.”

“Also a horrible choice.  It glorifies bullying.  And it’s not even a movie!  It’s an hour-long special!”

Jeannie retorted, “Well, what’s your favorite then, Mer, if you’re going to belittle our choices?”

Rodney said promptly, “The only acceptable response is _Miracle on 34 th Street_, the original.”

Madison asked, “Colonel John, what’s yours?”

John took the end of the string from Kaleb and answered, “ _Die Hard_.”

Rodney scoffed, “That would be your choice.”

“Hey,” he defended with a laugh, “it’s a legitimate Christmas movie!  Even the director said so.”

Rodney glared at him from the couch.  “It takes place at Christmas.  It is not a Christmas movie.”

“By that definition, none of these could be called Christmas movies,” John responded, enjoying Rodney’s splutter.  He hadn’t felt like this in a long time.  It felt like back in college, like there was nothing more important he had to do than tease Rodney or blow off his homework.  After graduation and their breakup, he’d thought the closeness of his unit had given him what he needed, what he’d craved since losing Mom.  Since fighting with Dad.  Since losing Rodney.  But it hadn’t even come close.  Yeah, he had brothers-in-arms, but this . . . this was family.  This was an actual, honest to goodness, _family_ that had taken him in for no other reason than they wanted him to experience Christmas again.

He could have had this.  He could have had a family like this.  Years ago, before he enlisted.  He could have had this in a heartbeat.  He’d known Rodney would have said yes the instant he saw the ring box.  But life had other plans for them.  But still . . . . John was caught by surprise by how strong the feeling was, by how much he wanted this.

“New question!  Favorite Christmas song!”

Kaleb answered, “ _All I Want for Christmas is You_.  Rodney, we’re ready for the next set.”

Jeannie came in to give her husband a kiss, an apron tied around her waist.  “I love you.”

“I love you,” Kaleb said, kissing her back.

Rodney joined John at the tree, handing him the plug to connect the strings together without looking at him.

“Colonel John!  Favorite Christmas song!”

The kid was insistent.  John thought for a minute, working the lights through the branches.  “I guess it’s a tie,” he finally said.  “ _I’ll Be Home for Christmas_ or _White Christmas_.”  Those were the two songs that were played the most on the bases he’d been in during past Decembers.  Hear them often enough, they tend to worm their way into your heart.  Tug at the heartstrings.  John averted his gaze from Rodney’s assessing look.  Over the years, John had really identified with them, wishing there was somewhere he could go, someone to go home to.  A place where he belonged and people wanted him.  Wishing to be out of a war zone and safe somewhere.

This little bubble wasn’t going to last, John knew that.  He was only going to be welcome for so long at the Millers.  He had a decision to make and he couldn’t let them affect that.  Couldn’t let whatever this thing between him and Rodney was affect his decision because there was no guarantee Rodney would even want him after this.  And there was no guarantee he’d even stay in contact with them after the new year.  But he could store up enough of that warmth and family-like feeling for next year, when he was stuck on base with nowhere to go, nowhere to call home.

At that, John realized he was leaning towards taking the demotion, even though he’d fought damn hard for the promotion to light bird.  To lose it now, for something so monumentally _stupid_ . . .

He never once considered that this would be for him, that he would have something this good for long enough to make discharge worth it.  After a moment of awkward silence, John cleared his throat and said, “Next question.”

 

* * *

 

Jeannie dried her hands on the dish towel and headed out to the living room to check on the progress of the tree decorating.  She’d insisted they eat dinner after the lights had been put up because if they didn’t, then Madison would never get to bed at a reasonable time.  She glanced at the clock and saw that it was way past her bedtime anyway.

Kaleb was sitting on the couch, sorting through the remaining ornament boxes.  Some he had set on the coffee table, and she could see they were the more fragile-looking ornaments.  The non-breakables he gave to Madison who was currently ordering Meredith about on where they should go.  Jeannie laughed softly at the sight.  But someone was missing.  Where was John?

Looking around, she spotted him over by the front window, watching the group around the tree with a look of such unguarded wistfulness on his face, it nearly broke her heart.  She’d known that John needed a dose of Christmas spirit but she didn’t think she’d realized quite what it would mean to him to be included in her family’s Christmas activities.  Jeannie walked over and stood next to him but didn’t speak. 

John broke the silence.  “Thanks for dinner.  It was great.”

“You’re welcome.  I’m glad you liked it,” she replied, keeping her voice low like his.

“It’s been awhile since I’ve had anything even resembling home cooked meals.”

Jeannie said pointedly, “Well, if you would come over more often, I could fix that.”

He gave her a small smile.  “I know.”

“The invitation stands.”  They dropped back into silence for a moment.  “Things don’t seem as tense between you and Mer anymore,” she probed, thinking maybe that was why he hadn’t come over.

John shrugged.  That told her nothing.

Hmm . . . Jeannie let the silence grow, dividing her attention between watching her brother and daughter decorate the tree and the tense soldier standing next to her.  “So why are you all the way over here, John?  Get tired of taking orders from an eight-year-old?” she teased.

It startled a laugh out of John.  “Nah, she’s great.  Bossy, but great.  Seems to be a McKay family trait.  No, I just—I needed a break from . . . . I didn’t know Christmas—I didn’t know _family_ —could be like this.”

The note in his voice . . . . Jeannie glanced at him in concern but he kept his gaze ahead.  The vulnerability from earlier was gone.  With a frown, she realized she now had an opening to ask something that had been niggling at the back of her mind for a few days.  “John,” Jeannie started quietly, “where _is_ your family?  Not that I don’t love having you here—I do, I really do—but why aren’t you with them for the holidays?  Why spend your leave here?”

John drew in a sharp breath.  Meredith glanced over at them and frowned.  He took a step towards them but Maddie grabbed his arm and shoved an ornament into his hands.  With one last concerned look, he turned back to the tree, shooting a quick glance over his shoulder at them as he hung an ornament.  Jeannie smiled a little—her plan was working.  She knew these two had been brought back together for a reason.

The silence from John was so long, Jeannie was sure he wasn’t going to answer and was starting to think about what to talk about.  Then came his quiet admission, “My mom died the summer before I entered high school.  Cancer.”

She stared at him, her mouth agape.  “Oh, John,” Jeannie murmured, “I’m so sorry.”

Without missing a beat, John continued, “Dad disowned me when I chose MIT over his alma mater, Harvard.  My little brother, Dave, cut contact with me when he found out I enlisted.  Sheppards don’t serve.”  He gave her a bitter smile.  “My family wants nothing to do with me and I want nothing to do with them.  And that’s worked just fine for me.”  The _until now_ remained unspoken, but she heard it nonetheless.

Jeannie had no idea what to say to that.  And she didn’t have to because John left her.

“Hey, kiddo,” John said, interrupting Madison and Mer.  Jeannie watched him crouch down in front of her daughter.  “I’m gonna head out.  But thanks for letting me hang out with you today.  I had fun.”

Leave?  No, he couldn’t leave!  He and Mer still needed time together!  Jeannie frantically cast about for a legitimate reason for him to stay.  If she didn’t get them time alone together, after witnessing their connection today, she wasn’t sure what would happen.  Surely not what they needed.  John was opening up and Mer was starting to look happy again.  They needed to be together.

Madison’s face fell, her lower lip sticking out.  “You’re leaving?  But we haven’t finished!  And—and the tree’s not lit!”

“I know, but it’s getting late.  I still have to find my way back to the hotel.”  John set a hand on her shoulder.  “I’ll see you Monday, at rehearsal, okay?”

That lower lip wobbled and then Jeannie watched her daughter fling her arms around John’s neck, burying her face in his shoulder.  John went absolutely still then he awkwardly hugged her back.  Jeannie shifted her gaze to her brother, curious to see his reaction.  Mer’s mouth was slightly open, an ornament clutched in one hand.  She’d never seen that look on his face before and had a hard time interpreting it.

John ended the hug and got to his feet.  He held out a hand to Kaleb.  “G’night, Kaleb.”

Kaleb stood and gripped his hand.  “Glad you were able to make it today, John.  Come back anytime; we’d be happy to have you over.”

John nodded then turned to Mer and Jeannie shifted so she could see them a bit better.  John rubbed the back of his neck.  “Uh, so.”

“Yeah,” Mer said softly.

“See you Monday?” John offered.

Mer nodded.  “Yeah.  Uh, be careful.  Driving.”

Driving!  Yes, of course!  Jeannie whirled around and tugged the curtains aside, grinning as she saw exactly what she’d wanted.  “You might not want to be out on the road right now, John,” she said.

“What do you mean?” John asked, coming over to peer out the window next to her.  His shoulders slumped.  They could barely see the street due to the amount of snow falling.  “Well that wasn’t in the forecast.”

“You can’t drive in that.  You’ll end up in a ditch somewhere.”  Jeannie fought to hide her glee.  Thank god for Canadian winter!

Pulling back, John shrugged.  “I’ve flown in a sandstorm before.  Driving a Jeep in a snowstorm can’t be that much different.”

“No, John.  You can’t.  Snow is different.  It’s unpredictable and you can’t see through it.  Lights won’t help.”

“Don’t forget the black ice,” Kaleb put in.

“Yes, exactly!” Jeannie agreed quickly, nodding at her husband.  He understood where she was going with this.  “And the streets won’t be plowed.  No, I can’t in good conscience send you out there into that, John; especially when you don’t have a lot of recent experience driving in snow.  No.  It’s settled.  You’re staying here tonight.”

John blinked.  His mouth worked but nothing came out then looked out the window again.  He flicked his gaze to Mer then back to her and finally said, “I couldn’t possibly ask—”

“You’re not,” Jeannie cut him off briskly.  “I’m insisting.  Stay the night.  Please; it’ll make me feel better knowing you’re not out there in the storm.”

John clearly wanted to say no; it was in his expression.  In the way he looked out the window.  He glanced at Mer again then sighed.  She fought a grin as he reluctantly gave in.  “Alright.  If you’re _sure_ it’s no trouble.”

She smiled reassuringly at him.  “No trouble at all.  We’ll make up the couch.  I’m sure you can fit in some of Kaleb’s things for pajamas.  I’ll go grab some blankets.  Maddie, hon, would you start cleaning up?” she asked as she headed for the linen closet.

“But _Mo-o-om_ . . .”

Jeannie tweaked her daughter’s nose.  “It’s already past your bedtime.  You can finish tomorrow.  Clean up here and say goodnight to Colonel John and Uncle Mer.”

Maddie made a face but started putting things away.  The tree was mostly finished.  It really just needed garland and the special fragile ornaments put up but she could do that tomorrow.

Jeannie finally let the grin loose as she walked down the hall.  Exactly what she needed to push them together.  Stuck in a snowstorm!  Perfect timing.

 

* * *

 

John emerged from the bathroom, feeling incredibly awkward in his borrowed pajamas.  He and Kaleb were fairly close in size so the red plaid flannel pants and matching button down shirt were loose but didn’t fall off his lean frame.  John plucked at the hem of the shirt, idly wondering why Kaleb had these. 

Walking out into the living room, John found Jeannie unfolding a blanket onto the couch.  The decorations had been returned to the totes and one lamp was left on.  Jeannie was still in her day clothes as she tucked the blanket into the cushions.  When she looked up and saw him, she grinned. 

John set down his folded clothes on an end table, then held his arms out and raised his eyebrows.  “Are these really Kaleb’s?”

Jeannie covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes dancing with mirth.  “Yeah, um.  They were a Christmas gift from his parents a couple years ago.  I have a matching set.”

“Uh huh.”  John shook his head.  “Thanks.”

“No problem.”  Jeannie stepped back and said, “So there’re a couple extra blankets here for you on the coffee table.  Doors are all locked.  Just turn the light off before you get settled?  Oh, and I apologize in advance for when Madison wakes you up in the morning.”

“Understood.”  He walked around the couch and sat down, then grabbed the pillow and moved it to the far side, away from the door.  Old habits.  “Night, Jeannie.”

“Good night, John.”  She headed upstairs and after a moment, John heard a door shut.

He took a breath.  Looked around.  It wouldn’t be the first couch he’d crashed on.  It was, however, the first couch he’d crashed on that was down the hall from his ex-boyfriend.  Who was starting to feel less like an ex and more like the old friend he’d started out as.  John took another breath then got up and switched off the light, making his way back to the couch in the faint light coming through the cracks in the curtains.

John lay down, pulling a blanket up and slid an arm under his head, staring at the dark ceiling.

He’d lost control a little bit back there, telling Jeannie about the fucked up mess of a family he had.  Seeing Rodney and Madison and wishing for that sense of belonging to be his . . . . it had messed with his heart a little.

John scoffed.  Who was he kidding?  It had messed with his heart a lot.

He shifted on the couch, trying to get comfortable.  His side twinged and he rolled onto his other side, facing the back of the couch.  What was he doing?


	9. Chapter Nine

Rodney blinked, tearing his gaze away from his computer screen to look at the time.  The numbers on the alarm clock blurred but he felt he was making progress.  This one would work.  He knew it.  Of course, Radek would need to go over the equations before the test, just to be sure, but that was a given.  Radek always checked Rodney’s math, just like Rodney always checked his.  He rubbed his eyes then read the clock again.  Ugh.  He made a face but decided it wasn’t too late for a cup of coffee.  As long as he was quiet.  Jeannie wouldn’t take kindly to being woken up at three-thirty in the morning.

He slid off the bed and headed down the hall, avoiding the squeaky parts with some effort, and headed for the kitchen only to be stopped by a weird sound.  He stopped, and cocked his head, listening.

Mumbling greeted his ears.  Was there someone in the house?

A muttered, “ _No . . . please_ ,” had Rodney remembering John was sleeping on the couch.  John had never talked in his sleep before; at least, not that he remembered.  The room went quiet so Rodney pushed it from his mind and continued on his quest for coffee.

A whimper from the couch stopped him in his tracks. 

Rodney stood in the kitchen doorway and debated inwardly.  John muttered something unintelligible and Rodney ran a hand over his face.  John was having a nightmare; that was clear.  A bad one, from the sound of it.  It was also becoming clear that he wasn’t going to wake up from it, which meant Rodney would have to do something.

Rodney made a face but turned around and stalked over to the couch.  He silently told himself that it was just so John didn’t wake anyone.  It was not because he cared or was worried; it wasn’t.  He wasn’t.  He rounded the corner of the couch and amended that thought in an instant.

The blanket was tangled around John’s legs, bunched up at his waist, the legs of his borrowed pajama pants riding up towards his knees.  John’s head rolled from side to side and his chest heaved with his labored breaths.  “ _. . . no . . . stay . . . Holland . . . don’t . . . . no._ ” John breathed out the words, the emotion in his voice choking Rodney.  John’s hands clenched and unclenched as he watched, his throat tight.

Oh who was he kidding, of course he cared; he’d never stopped caring.  Rodney sighed, letting go of some things he’d been stupidly hanging onto, and bent over.  He called softly, “John.  John, wake up.  You’re having a nightmare; you need to wake up.”

John didn’t react to him at all.  Rodney tried again, this time sitting on the edge of the couch.  He gripped John’s arm and shook it.  “John, wake up!”  He raised his voice a little but not much; he didn’t want to wake the whole house, after all.  Just John.

John sat up abruptly and Rodney froze as he felt John’s hand wrap around his throat.  John’s eyes were wide and unfocused, breathing heavily through his mouth.  The grip on his throat made it a little hard to speak but he managed, “John—John, it’s me.  It’s Rodney.”

Recognition sparked in John’s hazel eyes and then horror flashed across his face.  John let go, jerking back and making space between them.  His chest continued to heave as he ran his hands over his face, through his hair. 

Rubbing his neck, Rodney said, “You know, I don’t remember you being such a hard person to wake up.”  He tried for nonchalance; wasn’t sure he’d hit it.  This wasn’t the John he remembered.  But then again, he wasn’t the same person, either.

John flinched and words poured out of him like a flood.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.  I just—I lost track of—of where I was and I . . . it happens, sometimes . . . and I haven’t been around anyone who—who wasn’t a soldier, recently, and I just—god, I’m so sorry, Rodney.  Did I hurt you?  Tell me I didn’t hurt you.”

Rodney stared at him in surprise.  The pleading in his voice, the word vomit—that’s just . . . not something John did.  Does.  He realized he was still rubbing his neck and forced himself to lower his hand.  “I’m fine, John.  Just . . . took me by surprise, is all.”

John nodded, his gaze lowered.

Rodney studied his profile, leaning forward to see better in the intermittent moonlight.  He briefly contemplated turning a lamp on, but decided against it.  Still, he could see the sweat sheen on John’s forehead, the bags under his eyes and felt guilt set in—guilt that he hadn’t seen it before.  “You haven’t been sleeping.”

John started, flicking his gaze over to Rodney—guilt and something else in them—then said, “It’s kind of hard to get a good night’s sleep in a war zone.”

Rodney twisted his mouth in a frown, still studying him.  “Why are you having a nightmare about a country?”

That got him John’s full attention for a brief moment, the confusion chasing away the guilt.  “What?”

“You were muttering about Holland.  What did that particular country do to you that would result in nightmares?”

John’s gaze shuttered.  “Holland . . . He isn’t . . . He was . . . a soldier.  In Afghanistan.”

“A soldier,” Rodney repeated and his frown deepened.  He got comfy on the couch cushion, determined to get the story.  When John averted his gaze, Rodney knew John was going to—to lie, or deflect and that pissed him off.  Time for a little brutal honesty.  That always worked better back then; hopefully that was the same.  “Okay, look,” he started, leaning over to poke John in the shoulder.  John looked at him in surprise.  “The only way this—this _thing_ —between us is going to go anywhere, is if we’re honest with each other.  So no more secrets, okay?  Tell me the truth.  Is Holland . . . is he your boyfriend or something?”  He was surprised by how much it stung, that John would have dated someone else.

But John shook his head.  “No.  No, Holland is . . .” John grimaced.  “ _Was_ under my command.  He’s, uh . . . he’s—dead, now . . . because of me.”  John’s voice cracked and broke.  “I was supposed to save him and I didn’t.  It’s my fault, it’s all my fault.” 

Rodney did not do comforting.  He was horrible at it, in fact.  But watching John fall apart . . . Rodney scooted closer and reached a tentative hand out to rest lightly on his shoulder.  He knew John hated being touched and, sure enough, John tensed under his hand and but Rodney kept his hand there and said softly, “I’m sure that’s not true.”  He may not know the soldier his old love had become, but he knew who John was inside.  John was a good man, always wanted to do the right thing.  Rodney was certain that that had never changed.

John answered just as softly, “But it is.  It is, Rodney.”

“What happened?”

He didn’t expect an answer, let alone more than a sentence or two.  But the lack of light, the lack of emotional walls . . . whatever it was, John told him.  Told him everything.  John never met his gaze and Rodney didn’t interrupt.  It took a while, John’s voice breaking off every now and then but Rodney let him gather himself, gently rubbing his back as he talked.

John told him about the base.  About Holland’s mission that was so routine on paper, it could have been done by any newbie.  A pick-up that should have been a day, two at the most.  John told him about learning that the village was a front for ISIS and he hadn’t known before sending Holland out without backup.  About command refusing John’s request to go after him.  About John disobeying direct orders to steal a chopper and go anyway.  It took a while for John to make it through the part of the tale where he rescued Holland, injured, only to be shot down.  About Holland bleeding out in his arms even as they came under attack.  About how John was eventually rescued but it came too late to save Holland.

When tears started to flow silently down John’s face, Rodney drew him into his arms.  In that moment, nothing mattered.  Not their past, not their bickering, or their baggage.  John was hurting, and blaming himself for something that wasn’t his fault, was out of his control.  And no matter what had happened between them, or was happening between them now, Rodney couldn’t stand to see John hurt.  Never could.

Eventually, John’s tears ran their course and he pulled away, wiping his face and sniffling.  Rodney struggled to think of what to say, to figure out what the right thing to say was.  Knowing him, Rodney was sure that John had been dealing with this on his own, _blaming_ himself for events out of his control.  Well, that was going to stop, right now.

Unsure of how he’d respond, Rodney hesitantly reached out again, resting his hand on John’s shoulder once more.  John looked up at him in surprise, his eyes red and bright with unshed tears.  It broke Rodney’s heart to see him like this.  Softly, but firmly, Rodney said, “What happened to Holland was not your fault.  You rescued him when no one else would.  He was with a friend when he died.  That’s a good thing, John.”

“He still died because I couldn’t save him.  I should have gotten him back to the base, done something . . . done more.”

Rodney shook his head.  “You were injured yourself, and under attack.  Under the circumstances, you did the best you could.  You did _all_ you could.”

The guilt receded a bit and John leaned into his touch.

Rodney swallowed and asked tentatively, “Is, uh, is that how you got injured?  The accident overseas you mentioned the other day; was that it?”

John’s face shuttered closed but then he took a shaky breath and nodded.  “Yeah,” he breathed.  “Yeah, when the, uh, when the chopper . . . when it crashed, part of it—it pinned me to the seat and I, uh . . . I had some trouble, getting—getting free.”

Rodney’s mouth hung open.  He had been expecting a scratch, maybe a gunshot at worst.  But this . . . he couldn’t wrap his brain around the fact that John had a fucking hole in his side and had been doing physical labor for the past week without complaint.  Then he remembered yesterday, with the ladder.  He was hurting and still worked.  He was insane!

John ducked his head and Rodney had no idea what was showing on his face right now but he hoped it was suitably concerned.  Not horrified.  And then he heard himself ask, “Can I see it?”

John’s head snapped up, his eyes wide, and Rodney wanted to take it back.  But no.  No, he was surprised to find that he _wanted_ to see.  He wanted to know this part of John, this new John that was still so much like his John but different.  Harder.  More reserved.  Rodney found himself suddenly wanting to know everything about John, everything that had happened to him in the past twenty years.

He was stunned when John started to unbutton his borrowed shirt.  _Holy shit,_ Rodney thought frantically and pulled his hand back.  No no no, he wasn’t ready for this.

John reached up and carefully, slowly, slid the fabric down his shoulders, letting it gather around his elbows.  Then he turned, faced Rodney and waited.

Rodney’s eyes were caught by the bandage he’d seen a glimpse of before but then he looked at the rest of John’s chest.  There were bruises as well as the bandage.  He reached out, wanting to touch, then stopped and pulled back.  He looked up at John and saw the vulnerability in his eyes.  They were so close, Rodney could almost feel John’s breaths.  He reached out again, slowly, giving John plenty of time to stop him.

John didn’t.  He didn’t move at all, holding himself so still.

Rodney rested his hand lightly on the bright purple and black bruise on the square of John’s chest.  John breathed in sharply, his muscles tensed, but he didn’t pull away.  Rodney flattened his palm against the skin, feeling John breathe and took a deep breath himself.  He wanted to see this, he reminded himself.  As much as he wanted to peel the bandage back and see the stitches for himself, his attention kept getting diverted.  And not because John had a fantastic six-pack, although that was nice.

The moonlight coming in through the curtains shifted and now Rodney saw scars on John’s skin.  Pink, puckered, new and old . . . they covered John’s chest and Rodney knew instinctively that John believed he now had physical scars to match the emotional ones from his childhood.  So many, though.  How many times had John been in danger?  How often did he put himself in harm’s way?

“What happened?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as his fingers traced the marks.

John shrugged, the muscles moving under Rodney’s touch.  “Hazards of war.”

Rodney continued exploring, finding a raised bump on his collarbone.

John jerked away.

“What is that?  What happened?”

Tugging his shirt back on, John said shortly, “The Taliban held me for a few months.  They’re not big fans of Americans.”

Unthinkingly, Rodney responded, “I didn’t know you were a POW.”

John shrugged again and turned his head away.  “No one cares about one lone pilot going MIA.”

Rodney whispered, “I’m sorry, John.  I’m so sorry.”  _Sorry I wasn’t there for you.  Sorry you went through that alone.  Sorry my research didn’t save you._   He wanted to say all of that but it wouldn’t come out.  The words stuck in his throat.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Rodney.”  John’s eyes were bright and fixed on him.  “I chose this life.  I chose to fight, to run into danger.  If anything, I should be apologizing to you.  I should have talked to you before I enlisted.  We were partners.”

“Yes, you should have.  But I shouldn’t have walked away from you that day,” Rodney confessed.  “I was hurt and felt betrayed.  I left without letting you explain.  Without giving you a chance.  And you went through hell . . . you were alone.  And I should have been there.”

John tilted his head, studying him.  He stared at Rodney like he’d never seen him before and Rodney shifted, uncomfortable with the scrutiny.  John had always been able to read him with zero problem.  Was it still like that?

Then John smiled.  “Water under the bridge.”

Rodney blinked, thrown.  “What?”

John repeated with a half shrug, “Water under the bridge.  Don’t worry about it.”

Rodney struggled for something to say to that, his thoughts stumbling over each other but never completing any.

John asked, “What were you doing up so late anyway?”

“Uh,” Rodney stuttered, “I, uh, I was—was getting coffee.”

John raised an eyebrow.  “Coffee?  What time is it?”  He reached over to the coffee table and turned his phone on.  4:38 blinked at Rodney.  “Isn’t it a bit late for coffee?”

“Oh,” Rodney said, waving a hand dismissively, “it really doesn’t have much kick for me.  I drink so much, it’s basically useless but I still find myself reaching for it when I’ve been working late.”

“You’re working? At 4:38 in the morning?”

Rodney shrugged.  “Sort of.  Don’t tell Jeannie, though?  She’d kill me if she found out I brought work on vacation with me.”

John gave him a small smile.  “Your secret’s safe with me.”

They lapsed into silence then but Rodney knew something significant had shifted.  He glanced at John after a couple minutes, in time to see him yawn.  “I should—I should go, let you sleep.”  He got to his feet, feeling awkward.

John nodded.  “Yeah.  Yeah, uh, hey, thanks.  For, uh, for listening.”

Rodney nodded several times.  “Sure.  Uh, thanks, for, uh . . . sharing?”

That little smile came back.  “Night, McKay.”

Rodney smiled back.  “Night, Sheppard.”

John reached for his blanket as Rodney walked back to his room, forgoing the hunt for coffee.  Well, shit.  Now he was going to have to tell his sister she was right. 

He hated telling her she was right.  It gave her far too much glee.

 

* * *

 

Music drew John from sleep, pulling him out of the land of dreams to the sound of . . . .

Neighing?

Breathing in deeply, John sat up and rubbed his eyes.  Then he looked around for the source of the sound.  Madison sat on the floor in her pajamas, her attention focused on the television which was playing . . . John squinted, unsure he was seeing correctly.  Was that—were those ponies with rainbows coming out of their tails?

Then it hit him.

He’d woken up.

Which meant he’d fallen asleep after his nightmare, after talking with Rodney.  That had never happened before.  He’d never gone back to sleep after a nightmare.

John rubbed his face again.  He had honestly expected to lie on the couch, staring up at the dark ceiling, until the household woke in a few hours.  Low voices from the kitchen caught his attention next and he realized that he might have been the last one to wake up.  Wow, okay, that was weird.

He shoved the blanket off him and got to his feet, stretching carefully.  His back cracked.  That felt good.

Madison twisted around.  “Morning, Colonel John!” she chirped.  Then her face fell.  “Did I wake you up?  Daddy said I could watch _My Little Pony_ but only s’long as I didn’t wake you.”

He managed a quick smile.  “No.  You didn’t wake me.”

“Goodie,” she said in relief and turned back to the show.

John watched it for a minute then shook his head and headed for the bathroom.  Weird.  He used the facilities, changing into his clothes from the day before, then headed back to the kitchen, wondering if it would be okay to ask for coffee.  Leaning in the doorway, he caught the tail end of something Jeannie was saying.

“. . . dishes in the sink this morning.”  She was pouring batter onto a frying pan.  He sniffed.  Pancakes?  Homemade pancakes?

A memory popped into his head, of a Christmas with his mom making him and Dave pancakes in the kitchen.  Flour went everywhere and John honestly couldn’t remember her being happier.  She got sick less than a year later.  She would get better and then it would come back.  Eventually, it always came back.  Until it didn’t go away.

Rodney rolled his eyes and sipped from his mug.  “You’re exaggerating.  I don’t use that many.  And I didn’t even drink any coffee last night.”  His eyes found John in the doorway and his face flushed.

John raised an eyebrow, something Rodney had said last night coming back to him.  So Rodney thought there was a _thing_ happening between them, huh?

Jeannie spun and smiled, her spatula waving in the air.  “Good morning, John!  Sleep well?”  He nodded.  He didn’t mention the nightmare.  “Do you want some pancakes?”

“Sure,” he said.  “Mind if I have some coffee?”

“Of course!  Mer, get him a mug from the cupboard.  Pancakes’ll be ready in a couple minutes.”

Rodney pulled a mug from the cupboard over the microwave and handed it to John, their fingers brushing as John took it from him.  John’s stomach flipped and Rodney turned pink again.  As John picked up the coffeepot, Rodney slid over to him and asked quietly, “ _Did_ you sleep okay?”

John glanced at him and saw genuine concern in his expression.  “Yeah,” he answered in a low voice.  “I did.”  He set the pot back down and took a sip.  Mmm, that was good.  “Thanks again, for last night.  How’s your neck?”

Rodney rubbed it.  “It’s fine.  Really.  I’m just glad I was able to help.”

The clatter of plates drew them apart with a jump.  John hadn’t realized how close they’d actually gotten and felt his ears burn.  Jeannie called, “Breakfast is ready!  Maddie, come and eat, honey!  Anyone want anything other than syrup or butter?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The beginnings of reconciliation . . . . hope you enjoyed it :)


	10. Chapter Ten

“Colonel John, Colonel John, Colonel John!”

John looked up from where he sat at a workbench in the back, painting a reindeer, to see Madison in front of him, wearing what looked like a pair of angel wings on her back.  It didn’t quite work with the jeans and Santa sweater.  He smiled at her and set his paintbrush down.  “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”

“Are you busy tonight?”

John bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning.  He had zero plans for the rest of the month, and probably into the next one.  “No.  Why?”

She grinned at him and twisted, making the wings flap.  “We’re going ice skating tonight and Mommy says you have to come.”

John arched an eyebrow.  “Oh, she does, huh?”  Scanning the area, he found Jeannie and Rodney hunched over the piano, discussing something.  He watched Rodney’s hands fly as he talked.  It had been a couple days since his impromptu sleepover at their house and he wasn’t surprised that Jeannie was trying to get him to join them on yet another outing.  She seemed oddly determined.  John turned back to Madison and said, “I’d love to.  Just have your mom tell me when and where to meet you.”

“Yay!” Maddie squealed and hugged him briefly before darting off.

John blinked, startled, then smiled and picked up his brush again, dipping it in the brown paint can on the bench next to him.  The sets were pretty much done, they just had a few minor decorations left to add.  John shot a glance over as Maddie joined a couple others.  He liked that kid.

He was going to be really sorry to say goodbye to her for real after Christmas.

 

* * *

 

The rink was busy, Christmas carols being piped in over the loudspeaker system, families and couples making circles on the ice.  There were a couple benches in the center in case someone needed a break.  John stopped at the wall and scanned the crowd.

“Colonel John!”  Madison came skating up to the wall, a huge smile on her face.  Her cheeks were red with either cold or exertion and her eyes shining.  Her blond hair was pinned underneath her pink and purple hat that matched her pink puffy coat.  “You came!”

Kaleb joined them a second later, wearing a plain black pea coat and matching scarf.  “Hi, John.  Glad you could make it.  Rentals are at the counter in the back.”

Sitting down on the bleachers after renting a pair, John pulled his shoes off and slid the skates on, tying them tight.  Apprehensive—it had been a long, long time since he’d been on the ice—John stepped out onto the ice.  He wobbled a bit but managed to keep from falling.

Something hit him in the side.  “Oof!” John said in surprise and looked down to see Madison, her arms wrapped around him.  “Hi.”

“Hi,” she beamed up at him.

Kaleb skated up to them and laughed.  “Maddie, hon, I don’t think John can skate with you hugging him like that.”

She let him go and took his hand instead, her mittened fingers small in his gloved hand.  He tightened his grip, pushed off, and asked, “Is it always this busy?”

Kaleb answered, “Around Christmas, yeah.  They serve hot chocolate and hot apple cider.  It’s free, other than the rentals, so a lot of people take advantage.”

“Whoa.”  John wobbled a little bit at first, throwing his free hand out for balance, unsteady for the first few glides of blades on ice, then his body remembered how it was supposed to work and he grinned.  They did a couple circuits of the rink and then John spotted Rodney clutching the wall next to Jeannie and had to laugh.  Excusing himself from Kaleb and Maddie, John skated easily across the center ice to them.  “Hey, guys,” he said.  “How’s it going?”

Rodney glared at him as Jeannie hugged John tight.  Rodney wore a bright orange fleece coat, a dark green scarf and had an orange knit cap on his head.  Jeannie was in a gray pea coat with a sparkly gray and blue striped scarf underneath.  A blue hat with a white pom pom on top covered her blonde hair.  “Oh, you did make it!  Good.  All those lessons as a kid and Mer still can’t skate.”

John chuckled and offered a hand.  “Come on, McKay; we’ll help.  Right, Jeannie?”

“Sure.  Come on, Mer,” Jeannie said as she peeled her brother’s hands off the wall.  “It’s not that difficult.  Honestly, my eight-year-old can manage to stay upright; so can you.”

“Your eight-year-old daughter,” Rodney glowered at her even as he allowed himself to be pulled away from the wall, “has little else to occupy her time.  I, however, have far too much to do to practice what is undoubtedly a useless activity and a waste of time.  Who wants to do physical exercise in the freezing cold?  Indoors is supposed to be warm, not cold.”

“Hey, Rodney,” John said, a laugh in his voice.

Rodney snapped, “What?”

“You’re skating.”

“What?”  Rodney looked around, noticed they were slowly moving around the rink, and promptly lost his balance.

John caught him before he fell to the ice, his arms around Rodney’s waist as he held him up.  Rodney clutched his jacket as he got his feet back under him.  The blades slipped on the ice and Rodney’s grip tightened.  Rodney’s breath ghosted across John’s face and his arms wrapped more securely around Rodney, their chests pressed together. 

“Thanks,” Rodney breathed when he’d regained his balance, his gaze flicking to John’s mouth and back up.

John stared at him, mesmerized by the brilliant blue of Rodney’s eyes.  “Welcome,” he said belatedly, his heart pounding in his chest.

Someone cleared their throat and they jerked apart.  John averted his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck as he felt his ears burn.

“So,” Jeannie said, “apparently you can only skate when you’re distracted.  Noted.” 

They started off again, Rodney purposely not holding onto their hands as he struggled to skate straight.  John shoved his hands into his pockets and tried not to think of what might have happened if Jeannie hadn’t interrupted.

Maddie and Kaleb skated past a couple times.  Other skaters passed them but they kept at the slower pace.  At one point, John slipped away to see if he could still remember any of the tricks he’d learned.  Using the center ice—it seemed to be the space for that since a couple others had been doing tricks—John tucked his arms in close and spun, closing his eyes at the feel of wind rushing past his face.  He did a couple circles around the middle then skated backwards for a bit before working up the courage to try a jump.  He only almost fell so he counted it a success before trying again and landing it.  He did a few more twists and jumps before rejoining Rodney and Jeannie.

They had stopped by the wall to watch him.  Without a word of explanation, John nudged Rodney’s shoulder and they started off again.

“You’re talented, John.”  It sounded like a compliment but John could hear the question for information in Jeannie’s voice.

He grabbed Rodney’s hand, tugging him around a pair of teens who’d stopped.  “Not that talented.  But it’s nice to know I haven’t forgotten everything.”

“You looked pretty comfortable out there.  Were you a professional figure skater when you were younger?”

Yup.  There it was.  She was good, John had to admit, couching the interrogation in compliments.  His grip tightened on Rodney’s hand and he swallowed past the lump in his throat.  “No.  God, no.  Dad wouldn’t allow it even if we’d wanted to.  But Mom . . . she took me and Dave ice skating every Christmas before she got sick.  She loved it.  I always thought she’d go pro if she hadn’t—if things hadn’t . . .” He took a breath, shoving the memories back into their boxes.  “Anyway,” he continued after a few seconds, “Dave hated it.  He’d go but he would only last a few minutes before leaving and pulling out some boring book.  But Mom and I would skate as long as we could.”  John smiled fondly and added in a quieter voice, “It was one of the few times it was just us, before . . . before she died.”

Jeannie said in a subdued voice, “I’m so sorry, John.  I had no—I didn’t know.”

He shook his head.  “Don’t worry about it.  It’s a good memory; I don’t have many of those.”

Rodney squeezed his hand and John gave him a quick smile.  They didn’t seem to know what to say after that so the three of them simply skated in silence, listening to the Christmas carols.  At some point, Jeannie left to go skate with her husband and daughter.  Sometime after that, the lights shifted, getting darker, and with a start John realized it had switched to couples’ skating.

John glanced sidelong at Rodney, wondering if he’d noticed.  If he’d noticed they were still holding hands.

A rush of air went by, then something bumped John off balance and suddenly he and Rodney were holding onto each other again, trying to stay on their feet.  Someone shouted, “Hey, no kids on the ice!”

Rodney stared at him, mouth parted a little.  John swallowed and leaned in. 

Rodney leaned in.

Their lips pressed together, John sliding his hand up to cup the back of Rodney’s neck.  Rodney’s arms slid around his waist and John tilted his head, feeling like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

This.

This was what he’d wanted, no, _needed_ , ever since he’d laid eyes on Rodney again after all this time.

This felt right.

 

* * *

 

Kissing John felt just like he’d remembered. 

His pulse raced under his skin and he wanted . . . wanted more.  Rodney tightened his grip, pulling John closer.  The layers between them were frustrating, gloves and scarves and coats.

The need for breath finally forced them apart and then John chuckled softly.   “Well,” he murmured, “I wasn’t expecting that to happen.”

Rodney pulled back a little more.  “What does that mean?  Do you regre—”

“No!”  John shook his head rapidly.  “No, I don’t.  I just—I wasn’t expecting that.  That’s all I meant by it.”

 “Oh.”  Rodney felt a little deflated.  After a minute, he asked, “So, uh, what—what now?”

 

* * *

 

“So that’s the extent of my family drama.  What’s yours?”

John smeared some antibiotic, anti-itch cream along the stitches in his side and responded, “They don’t talk to me, I don’t talk to them.  That’s my family drama.”

Through the phone sitting on the bathroom counter, John could hear Evan’s long-suffering sigh huff through the earpiece.  He had it on speaker so he could use both hands while he worked.  “Not _that_ family drama, Shep!  I know your family sucks.  I meant, how goes things with the ex-boyfriend?  Or is he no longer an ex?”

John rolled his eyes and reached for a clean bandage.  “You can be such a girl sometimes, Ev.”

“Insults will not deter me.  In fact, they tell me I’m on the right path.”  John could hear just how much his friend was enjoying this.  “So how is he?  Rodney was his name, right?”

“Yeah.”  John made a face, knowing his friend couldn’t see it, and muttered, “We kissed.”

“You what?!  And when exactly were you going to tell me that?”

John pressed the bandage against his side and ripped off a strip of medical tape.  “I just did.”

“You are frustrating.”

“Yup.”

“So . . .?”

“So what?”

“So how was it?  What happened?  When?”

John shook his head, mildly amused by his friend’s sudden need for information on his love life.  “It was nice.  I went ice skating with him and his family last night, he nearly fell, I caught him, and somehow we ended up kissing.”

“So things are going good then, yeah?  Since you’ve kissed and all?”

John finished up, shoved everything back in his little med kit, and picked up his phone.  Heading back into the main part of the hotel room, he set his phone on the bed and went to rummage in his suitcase for a shirt to wear to bed.  “Things are . . . progressing.”

“Progressing?  Jeez, Shep, you’re not remodeling your kitchen!  You’re getting back together with your college sweetheart!  Come on, man, you gotta do better than “progressing,” okay?”

“We’re not back together, alright?  It was a kiss.  Just a kiss.”  John tugged a shirt on, picked his phone and switched it off speaker, then sat down on the bed.  He sighed.  “I like it here, Evan.  I’m surprised at how much, but I do.  It’s nothing like what I knew growing up; it’s better.  So much better.  These people . . . they barely know me and yet they care.  They make me feel like—like I could belong here, with them, you know?  I just—I don’t want to screw this up.”

“What do you mean?  I mean, yeah, you can be an ass but I don’t—”

“I’m not telling him everything,” John interrupted.  “And I don’t what’s going to happen when he learns . . .” _about the decision I have to make in less than a week._   John blew out his breath, not looking forward to _that_ particular discussion.  No matter how many different ways he ran through it in his mind, it always ended the same way: with Rodney walking out on him again.  He just couldn’t figure out how to have both—Rodney and the sky.

Evan’s voice softened.  “John.  Learns what?  What’s going on?”

John ran a hand through his hair.  Wonderful.  Maybe this time he wouldn’t break down crying.  “You heard of a Captain Lyle Holland?”

“Yeah . . . yeah, I think so.  Sounds familiar.  He was KIA . . . shot down by ISIS a few weeks ago, right?  That him?”

“Yeah.  There’s, uh, there’s more to the story,” John grimaced, “that didn’t quite make it into public record.”

Evan chuckled.  “Always is with the military.  So what got redacted?”

“Me.”  John leaned his head against the backboard and closed his eyes.  “I fucked up, Evan.  Big time.  Holland _did_ get shot down but that wasn’t the end of it.  I, uh, I found out that he survived but command wouldn’t send a rescue unit.  Said it was too dangerous.”

“So you went anyway,” Evan said knowingly.

“Yeah.  Yeah, I went against orders, rescued him.”  He could see it, like flashes against his closed eyelids, and he had trouble breathing for a minute.  He didn’t feel quite as guilty as before but it was still there, still lingering.  His eyes burned and he had to swallow against the lump in his throat.  “We were a couple klicks from base when we got shot down.  I was injured by flying shrapnel, barely managed to get us both out of the ruined chopper but he was bleeding, bad.  Ground troops were coming at us.  Holland . . . . Holland bled out before rescue could come.  Hell, I barely survived until . . .”

On the other end of the line, Evan was silent.  “Jeez, Shep,” he finally said quietly.  He didn’t have to say anything more.  They were both career soldiers.  They both knew how luck could flip in an instant, knew the feeling of watching a comrade die and being unable to help.

John took a shaky breath and rubbed his eyes with his free hand.  “Anyway, I got hauled back to the States, reprimanded by a General Landry.”

“What did he want?”

“To make me choose.”

“Choose?  Choose what?”

“Demotion and re-assigned—to the ass-crack of nowhere, I’m sure.  Or discharge.  Of course, he failed to mention if it was honorable or dishonorable and I was too stunned to ask at the time.”

“And your guy doesn’t know this.”

“Nope.”

“When do you have to have your decision in?”

“The day after Christmas.”

“ _John!_ ”

John winced.  “I know!  I know.”

“That’s—that’s _five_ days away!  You have to tell him!  He needs to know.”

“I know!  I just—I don’t know what my choice is gonna be.”  John leaned forward, pressing his forehead against his knees. 

“Well, whatever it is, if things are going good with him, he needs to know.  He needs to be a factor in the decision, John.  He deserves to know if he’s going to have to deal with the military lifestyle or not.”

The sound of a phone ringing yanked John’s head up in surprise.  A second ring drew his attention to the phone console on the dresser.  “Ev, I gotta go.  The other phone’s ringing.”

“Other phone?” 

“Yeah, the—the hotel phone.  Listen, I’ll call you later, okay?”  He slid off the bed, headed for the phone.

“Alright, but remember what I said!  Tell him!  Soon!”

“I will, I promise,” John replied absently and hung up his cell, picking up the hotel phone.  “Hello?”

“Mr. Sheppard, I have a Dr. McKay on the line for you?”

Speak of the devil.  John shook his head and sat down.  “Put him through.”

There was a brief moment of dead air followed by, “Save me.”

John hesitated.  “ . . . Rodney?”

“Yes.  I assume the receptionist told you it was me.  Look, I need you to save me.  My sister is insane.”

No greeting.  Okay.  “What’s going on?”

Rodney sighed.  “I told you.  My sister’s insane.”

“Yeah, I got that.  Why?  And why do I have to save you?  Save you from what?”

“Maddie’s gotten it into her head that she needs to visit Santa and talk to him to make sure he knows exactly what she wants for Christmas.  She says her wish has changed or something and it’s too late to mail another letter in time for him to get it so she has to tell him in person.  Jeannie was going to take her tomorrow afternoon but just learned that she has some parent PTA . . . . thing.  Anyway, she can’t get out of it and English Major has a meeting he can’t get out of and for some stupid reason we can’t go another day which means I have to take her tomorrow which means you have to come with me and keep me sane.”

John’s lips quirked up in a half smile.  He was pretty sure that Rodney had run through that speech on as little breathing as possible.  Rodney used to do that a lot.  It had amused him back then too.  “Wait, why do I have to come?  Can’t you handle it on your own?”

“Oh.  Oh, uh, well, y—yeah.  I guess I could.  I mean, you don’t _have_ to come, I just thought,” Rodney backpedaled rapidly, sounding like he hadn’t considered the possibility that John might refuse.

_He needs to know,_ John thought.  And if he had just Rodney without Jeannie . . . it would be a good time to tell him.  “Alright,” John interrupted Rodney’s babbling.  “I’ll come.”

“You will?”  The relief in Rodney’s voice was audible.

“Yeah,” John smiled.  “Sounds like fun.”

“Great.”  Rodney hesitated, then asked, “Can I have your cell phone number?  It’d just be easier to text you where to meet us instead of calling the hotel and running the risk of missing you.”

“Oh, uh . . .”  It was John’s turn to hesitate.  Exchanging numbers felt big.  For some reason, it felt bigger than a kiss which was just plain idiotic.  “S—sure.  Yeah.  No problem.” 

They exchanged cell phone numbers, said bye and John buried his face in his hands after setting the phone back in the cradle.  Rodney was going to hate him after this but Evan was right.  He deserved to know.


	11. Chapter Eleven

The decorating committee really went all out on their street décor, John thought as he searched for an open spot.  There were lights draped between streetlights, already lit in the fading light.  Each lamppost along the sidewalk had a light up figure attached—snowmen, angels, reindeer.  Garland was wrapped around every lamppost and telephone pole, ribbons and giant ornaments hanging from the garland.  People everywhere.  John got lucky and found a parking spot in front of some department store.  Dropping some cash in the Salvation Army bucket outside the store, John texted Rodney and got directions to where he and Maddie were. 

Dodging shoppers and passersby—and getting a couple dirty looks and elbows—John caught sight of Rodney’s orange fleecy jacket and grinned.  “Hey!” he called, raising a hand to catch their attention.

“Finally,” Rodney huffed, reaching out to pull him the last couple feet to where they stood under a store awning.  Maddie stood in front of the window, her face pressed against the glass as she studied the window display.  John glanced at it: a model train ran in a circle around famous world landmarks decorated in miniature for the holidays. 

“Yeah, sorry I’m late,” John answered, hunching his shoulders a bit against the cold wind that blew through him suddenly.  What a day to forget his scarf.  “Hey, kiddo.”

Madison spun around and hugged him.  “Hi, Colonel John!  I can’t wait to introduce you to Santa!”

John laughed as she grabbed each of their hands and proceeded to drag them down the sidewalk.  He caught Rodney’s eye as they made their way down the street and his grin softened.  Rodney flicked his eyes at the girl then rolled his eyes.

“In case you couldn’t tell,” Rodney said, amused, “she’s excited.”

“I gathered.  How far is this thing, anyway?”

“Ah, it’s a few blocks from here.  Sorry we couldn’t get closer; not enough parking in this area.”

John didn’t mind.  Madison let go of their hands after a while, skipping happily a couple feet in front of them, darting off every now and then to look through store windows.  Snow started to trickle down.  Conversations came and went between them as they walked, catching up or talking about things that caught their attention.  It was comfortable, and easy.  John didn’t want to ruin it so he kept his secret for the time being.

Out of the blue, as Madison stopped in front of a store up ahead, Rodney asked, “What’s it like?  Flying?”

Startled, John responded, “What do you mean?”

Rodney waved a hand at the air and shrugged.  “Well, I mean—look obviously you enjoy it or you wouldn’t have kept at it all this time.  And I fly commercial all the time but that’s not the same, is it?  So what’s it like?  To fly your own plane?”

John stopped and stared at him.  Where was he going with this?  A step later, Rodney stopped as well and turned back to face him.  “What’s it like?” John repeated.

“Yeah.  Is it anything like flying commercial?”

“No.  No it’s nothing like that.  In fact, I hate flying commercial.  I get anxious and uncomfortable.  Being a pilot, flying my own jet, my own aircraft, it’s . . .” John had to think for a minute, struggling to find the words.  He made a frustrated face and ran a hand through his hair.  “It’s hard to put into words what it feels like.  It’s—it’s like . . . .” he trailed off again.

Rodney waited, hands in his pockets, watching him.  Snowflakes landed in his hair, on his eyelashes.  His eyes looked bluer than usual in the lamp light.  John’s heart skipped a beat.  _Beautiful_ , came the immediate thought.

And just like that, John knew _exactly_ how to explain what it felt like.  He didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to him before because it was perfect.  John took a step forward, closing the distance between them and—heedless of the annoyed crowd pulsing around them—said, “Flying feels like this.”  He put his hand on the back of Rodney’s neck, drew him close, and kissed him.

For one scary moment, Rodney didn’t react and John started to panic, started to pull back.  Then Rodney grabbed his jacket and pulled him in, kissing him back.  It was nothing like the kiss on the ice.  That one had been sweet and chaste and exploring.

This kiss was heat and longing and hope.

John broke it off, took a couple steps back.  Rodney’s gaze was locked on his, lips parted.  John’s heart pounded in his chest, stomach all a flutter.  His breath was visible between them as he murmured, “It’s like that.  Just like that.”

When Rodney simply stared at him, John found the words tumbling out, unable to stop them as he gave voice to things long buried.  “First time I got into a cockpit of my own jet, my hands wrapped around that joystick . . . feeling her roar beneath me, around me, screaming down the runway . . . . it—it’s like—”

“Like kissing me,” Rodney cut him off in a soft voice.

John swallowed and nodded jerkily.  The words kept coming, though.  “Every time I flew, every time I went up . . . you were with me.  I _wish_ , god, I wish I had reached out to you, sent a letter, called you, something, _any_ thing to explain.  But I was in boot camp, then flight training, then I was deployed.  It all happened so fast, I couldn’t—couldn’t risk it.  Not then.  I felt like I’d finally found my place and I couldn’t—I couldn’t risk losing it.  Even when it meant losing you.  And I know what a dick thing that is to say but at the time it—I had to.  And I . .  . I really _really_ regret that.”

Rodney’s mouth hung open, his eyes wide as the snow fell harder.

It was like nothing existed beyond them, in this moment of truth, as the words kept tumbling out.  It felt great to finally put a voice to things.  “When I could, when DADT was repealed . . . my first thought was you.  All those years and I still thought of you.  What you were up to.  If you . . . but I wasn’t sure if you still wanted . . . if you even wanted to hear from me and I couldn’t take the rejection.  So I took the coward’s way out and stayed away.  It was easier to believe I had nothing and no one.  And then—then I get this letter, from this little girl who invites me to experience Christmas with her family and she turns out to be related to you.  And then you’re here and . . .” John shrugged helplessly, unable to continue.

Rodney closed his mouth, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at John.  Snow continued to fall in the silence, stopping time between them with the magic only it has.  John didn’t know what to say or do, settled for staring at his feet, hands in his pockets.  He’d forgotten his gloves, too, apparently.

“You know, I own my own technology company now.”

John lifted his gaze, brow furrowing in confusion at the non sequitur.

Before he could ask what that had to do with anything, Rodney continued.  “Most of my work is for the government or the military.  I do a lot of research and development for the American military, especially.”  Rodney took a step forward, his blue eyes intent on John.  “All the helicopters you fly, the Jeeps or Humvees you drive . . . even the protective gear you wear . . . I made it.  My lab made it, supplied it.  Nearly all of it is mine, my design, my materials.  As much as I could, I made sure it made its way overseas.  To you.  I didn’t know where you were but I knew—I may not have been with you in the way we wanted but I didn’t want you to die.  All these years, John, you were never far from my mind.”  Rodney reached out hesitantly, laid his hand lightly on John’s arm.  His voice softened.  “I never reached out, either, and I should have.  I should have; I realize that now.  What we could have had . . . Back then, I thought that, at least, if I couldn’t talk to you, couldn’t _be_ with you . . . I never wanted to hear that you died over there.  So I did _everything_ I could to make damn sure that you were _safe_.”

John’s heart threatened to burst out of his chest, it was pounding so hard. 

Eyes shining with unshed tears, Rodney moved his hand to press it against John’s cheek.  John blinked, felt a tear slide down his own face.  “John, I—” Rodney kissed him.  John kissed him back, a kiss full of emotion and promise.

It was only when a phone chimed loudly that they pulled apart, laughing a little embarrassedly as the real world pulled them back in.  Rodney pulled his phone out.  “It’s Jeannie.  She says she finished early so she’s going to grab Kaleb and join us.  She’ll let me know when she gets here.”  Rodney tapped out a quick response and slid it back into his pocket before looking back at John.

John gave him a quick smile and said, “I suppose we should find Madison, then huh?”  Last he’d seen, she was a store ahead of them.  Some babysitters they were.

Rodney nodded, his brow furrowed slightly, and stepped back.  He sounded a little subdued as he responded, “Yeah.  I guess we should make sure she hasn’t been kidnapped or something.”  He turned away as John wondered what he’d said to screw things up now.  “Maddie?” Rodney called, and John turned to scan the area.  “Madison!”

“What, Uncle Mer?”  Madison popped up next to them, candy cane in hand.

Rodney frowned down at her.  “You know you’re not supposed to just walk off.  And where did you get that?”

She pointed.  “The elf gave it to me.”

John lifted onto his toes to see a young woman in a green and red elf outfit with a basket on her arm full of candy canes.  She was handing them out to kids that passed by. 

“Alright,” Rodney relented.  “Let’s go get in line.  Your parents are coming and I don’t want your mom yelling at me about you missing Santa, okay?”

“Okay!”  Madison made a point of staying a couple steps ahead of them, throwing looks over her shoulder every few feet.

After a couple minutes, John reached over and took Rodney’s hand in his, tangling their fingers together.  Rodney shot him a bright smile and John returned it, that now-familiar flip in his stomach.  He welcomed it.  It had been a long time since he’d felt this way.

Maybe it would be a good Christmas after all, even with Landry’s words still bouncing around inside his mind at inopportune times.  John resolutely shoved them back again, refusing to ruin the good thing happening.  They’d cleared the air and he finally had a shot at having Rodney in his life; he refused to contemplate anything further.  Not right now, anyway.

Right now, they had Santa to meet.

 

* * *

 

Rodney couldn’t help but keep looking over at John as they walked down the sidewalk.  That had happened, right?  That kiss? 

That confession . . .

Rodney’s gaze shifted to their joined hands and he smiled a little.  Yeah.  That had happened.  So . . . did that mean they were back together?  He should probably find out how much longer John could stick around before he had to fly back out to wherever he was stationed.  Would John want to come to Seattle with him for a bit, if he had the time?

Rodney really didn’t want John to leave.  But now that he knew how much John loved flying—or at least had a vague sense of it—he couldn’t ask John to give that up.

Or could he?

Rodney shot him another sidelong glance as they walked into Santa’s village, Maddie directly in front of him.  Would John stay, if Rodney asked him to?

 

* * *

 

John had thought the airport was packed but it was nothing compared to the sheer volume of people inside the little area designated “Santa’s Village.”  It was like a carnival.  There were souvenir stands selling wreaths and ornaments and little gifts for stocking stuffers.  There were drink stands selling hot chocolate and cider and popcorn.  Christmas music filtered in and out of the crowd noise.

John’s jaw clenched tight.  So loud.  So many people.  The airport had been bad enough but that was a much bigger space and it had planes.  This . . .

Someone’s elbow smashed into his.  Another bumped him with a shopping bag.  John stumbled as a child ran in front of him.

His grip tightened on Rodney’s hand as they followed the signs pointing them in the direction of Santa. 

Too many people.

John’s breath came faster, his muscles clenching tighter with each instance of unwanted physical contact.  Unbidden, his mind flashed back to the airport, how jittery and anxious he’d felt then . . . . how much more jittery he felt now.

A voice shouted practically in his ear and John jerked, hearing another, fainter, voice shout in his ear.  A loud sound startled him—John heard the bang of gunfire echoing . . . the flash and bang of a grenade as Christmas lights flickered in and out of view in the crowd.

He flinched, his breath catching, as a shoulder slammed into his.  His grip on Rodney’s hand tightened to the point where he was completely unaware of it.  He was holding onto something else.  Onto some _one_ else.  John blinked several times and shook his head, trying to catch his breath, to remember . . . remember . . . .

They’d stopped moving.  He was aware of that much.  Rodney stood in front of him, mouth moving, but John barely saw him.  Couldn’t hear him.  John was somewhere else, hearing shouted voices, foreign words raised in anger, _“Save yourself, sir, I’m not gonna make it_ ,” and metal screaming, pain . . .

Lifeless eyes staring accusingly at him.

“. . . athe, John.  Just breathe.  Come on, John, you’re okay.  Just breathe.”

The calm, steady voice penetrated the cacophony inside his mind and John drew in a ragged breath.

“That’s it.  Good.  Just breathe.  You’re okay.  Just focus on my voice and breathe.”

John drew in another breath and the noise in his mind died down a little more.  He breathed slowly in and out until he could shove the mental door closed.  That was about the time he realized he was sitting on a bench, Rodney next to him with a hand on his back.  John was still clenching the other tight.  The crowds . . . the carnival kept going on the other end of the park area.

Rodney asked cautiously, “John?  You back with me?”

John took another slow breath, feeling his heart start to beat a little less erratically.  “Yeah,” he breathed and forced himself to loosen his grip on Rodney’s hand.  “Yeah, I’m—I’m okay.”

“Okay,” Rodney repeated.  “Okay.  Um, can—can I—what happened?  One minute, you were fine; the next, you’ve got a death grip on my hand and looking like you’re in the middle of a panic attack.”

John huffed a shaky laugh and ran his free hand over his face, through his damp hair.  Great, he was sweaty as well.  Embarrassing.  Panic attack.  Yeah, that sounded about right.  Maybe a bit of PTSD, as well.  He avoided Rodney’s worried gaze, staring out at the happy carnival-goers.  “It’s, uh—I’m not—not good with . . . crowds.  In tight spaces.  Loud noises from nowhere.  It’s,” he licked his dry lips.  “It’s too much—”

Rodney squeezed his hand and finished softly, “Too much like a war zone.”

John nodded. 

After a second, Rodney’s arm slid around John’s shoulders, gently tugging him into the curve of his body.  John leaned against him and Rodney murmured, “I’ve got you.” 

They sat like that for several minutes, until John’s muscles had relaxed, and then something occurred to him.  “Hey, where’s Madison?”

“Oh, don’t worry.  She found a friend in line,” Rodney reassured him, “so I left her there when it became clear you needed to get away from the crowd.  I texted Jeannie, too, when it—when you—anyway, she’s okay.”

John nodded.  Good, he’d have hated to ruin her chances at seeing Santa with his panic attack.  “Sorry,” he found himself saying in a quiet voice.  “I didn’t—I didn’t realize I would . . .”

He felt Rodney shake his head.  “No need to apologize.  It didn’t occur to me that you might react badly.  Although, it is to be expected, considering what happened, that you would still be traumatized.  Your nightmares were indication enough.  Are those still happening, by the way?”

John pulled away to stare at him.  That was an almost clinical observation.  “Rodney,” John began slowly, “how do you—what—when did you learn that?”

Despite the chill in the air, Rodney’s face turned bright red and he looked away.  “I—well, I—I did some research.  After, you know . . . and I wanted to be prepared, in case—well.”

Prepared.  Rodney had done research on what to do if he was nearby when John experienced another bad nightmare or on the off chance that it manifested like it did just now, in a panic attack.  That he would do that . . . John was touched.  He squeezed Rodney’s hand and, when Rodney turned back to him warily, he murmured, “Thanks.”

Rodney’s expression softened and he pressed his lips lightly to John’s.  “Of course.”  They kissed again.  Rodney’s phone chimed, interrupting them again.  Rodney fumbled his phone out of his jeans pocket, and John straightened.  “Jeannie, again.  Man, she has horrible timing.  Maddie’s just finished up with Santa and they want to know if we want to meet at Kringle’s for hot chocolate.”  Rodney turned to him.  “You up for that?  We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“What’s Kringle’s?”

“It’s a little family-owned diner.  We passed it on our way here, actually.”

“Sure,” John shrugged.  “Yeah, that’s fine.”

Rodney eyed him.  “Are you _sure_?”

John found himself smiling at the concern.  “I’m sure, Rodney.  A little diner, I can handle.  Tell your sister we’ll meet her there.”

Rodney frowned but tapped out their response.  Getting up, they started back towards the street, taking the long way around the carnival area.  Enough time had passed that the shoppers and passersby had thinned out somewhat.  John was still tense and a little jumpy but feeling Rodney’s fingers wrapped around his steadied him.

Jeannie, Kaleb, and Madison were standing outside the diner as they arrived.  Jeannie grinned widely as she saw their joined hands but it faltered somewhat when she looked at him.  He assumed there were traces of his panic attack lingering on his face, in his eyes, but thankfully she didn’t remark on it, just reached for the door and stepped in.  Following suit, Rodney gave him a quick smile and John thought, maybe this could actually go somewhere.  If Rodney thought enough of this thing rapidly developing between them to research PTSD, then maybe he wouldn’t totally hate John when he found out about Landry’s ultimatum.

What would John’s final decision be, though?


	12. Chapter Twelve

Christmas Eve arrived with little fanfare.  Rodney had spent most of the previous night up on video chat with Radek, running through simulations and tweaking specifications.  He’d also gone through at least two full pots of coffee . . . . and possibly a third.  He wasn’t entirely sure.  Two, for sure.  So when his niece ran into his room, telling him to get up, well . . . superfluous, really.  Although, he could probably use a shower.

“So, I see you had a busy night.  You’re lucky I stocked up on coffee on my last trip to the store,” his sister said when he finally made his way out to the main area of the house.

He scowled at her and went into the kitchen.

“You missed breakfast,” she called after him.

Rodney pulled a bowl out of the cupboard along with a clean mug.  Cereal and coffee would do him just fine.  He settled on the couch with his food and shoved a spoonful of honey nut Cheerios in his mouth.  “What’re you watching?”

“They’re playing all the Rankin & Bass specials.  We’re on Frosty at the moment.”  Rodney gave his sister a quizzical look, eating another spoonful.  Jeannie rolled her eyes.  “It’s Christmas Eve, Mer.”

“Oh, it is?”  With a shrug, he returned to his breakfast, finishing rapidly then returned to his room to work.   

A couple hours later, Rodney re-emerged, phone in hand.  “Hey, Jeannie?”  He stopped in the hallway and looked around.  Where’d she go?  Rodney called louder, “Jeannie?”

“Upstairs!” she shouted back.

Ugh.  Rodney stomped up the stairs, poking his head through doors until he found her in Madison’s room.  “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning.  I’m not going to have time later or tomorrow so I want to do as much as I can before we have to head over to the theatre.”  Jeannie pushed a drawer shut and turned to him.  “What’s up?”

Rodney lifted his phone.  “John just texted me.  Do you know if there’s anywhere in town he can rent a suit at short notice?  He didn’t bring anything dressy, apparently.  If that’s even a word.”

“Oh.”  Jeannie put her hands on her hips and tilted her head to the side.  “On Christmas Eve?  I don’t think so,” she said after a moment of thought.

“Damn.”  Rodney sighed.  “Alright, I’ll let him know.”

“But—”

“But what?”

She grinned.  “He’s about the same size as Kaleb.  John can borrow one of his suits.  Just tell him to come over sometime this afternoon to try one on.  I can always fiddle with it to fit him for the night.”

“Oh.  Yeah, that’ll work.”  Rodney texted John and waited for his response.  It came fairly quickly.  “He says ‘Tell Jeannie thank you, I appreciate it.  What time would work for her?’”  Rodney looked up at his sister.  He saw no point in repeating the whole thing so he just said, “Well?” 

Jeannie’s brow furrowed as she thought again.  “Well . . . the pageant’ll start around eight or so which means we’ll need to be there at least an hour before.  Maybe two, just to be safe.  Which means dinner will be pushed back to five . . . what time is it now?”

“Uh . . .” Rodney checked the time on his phone, wondering how she was figuring this out.  “Almost eleven.”

“Okay.  So tell John to come over . . . three o’clock?  He can stay for dinner and we’ll drive over together.”

“Okay.”  Rodney started to tell John.

“Oh, wait!”

He stopped.  “What?”

“Tell him two.”  She smiled.  “I just remembered I need to make cookies to hand out afterwards and I could use the extra pair of hands.”

Rodney raised an eyebrow.  “You’re just _now_ remembering this?  And what if John doesn’t want to make cookies?”

“Trust me.  He will.  Tell him two.”

Rodney shook his head but proceeded to tell John to come over at two and be prepared to make cookies.  John’s response didn’t come until Rodney had started back down the stairs and it made Rodney smile.  _Two it is.  See you then.  I volunteer my services as taste-tester ;)_

 

* * *

 

John sat at the kitchen table, Madison in his lap, and reached for a cookie cutter.  He handed it to her and she nodded, her loose curls tickling his nose, then pressed it into the rolled out dough with both hands. 

He’d been at the Millers’ for a little over an hour now.  He’d been late, and then he and Kaleb had gone through his closet picking out suit options.  John and Kaleb weren’t as close in size as Jeannie had hoped so he’d ended up borrowing a simple white dress shirt and a black jacket.  After some discussion, they’d agreed he could stick with his jeans since he couldn’t fit into Kaleb’s pants without altering them significantly.  Funnily enough, he fit in the shirts best.  Maybe he wasn’t as built as he’d thought . . . . or maybe he’d lost more weight than he’d thought.

At any rate, once that’d finished, John was drafted for cookie-making.  Now he found himself with an eight-year-old on his lap, a roll of cookie dough with holiday-shaped holes in it, a row of cookie cutters and a tray with the cut-out shapes awaiting their turn in the oven. 

Madison twisted around.  “Done!”

“Yeah?”  John leaned forward, careful not to press her slight body into the table’s edge.  “Oh yeah, alright.  I think we can fit these last couple onto the tray.”  One arm holding her steady on his lap, John picked up the spatula Jeannie had given him and carefully scooped the doughy stars and bells up and deposited them on the tray.

“Mommy!” she called when that was done.  “We need more!”

“More what?” Jeannie asked as she came out.  “Oh, you filled your tray!  Good.  Those can go in the oven in a minute and I’ll get you a new one.  Do you need more dough?”

John eyed the pile that Madison was forming with the leftovers.  “Yeah, maybe a bit more, if you’ve got it?” he asked.

Jeannie chuckled and wiped her hands on her apron.  “Not a problem.”

The full tray was taken away, an empty one placed in its spot, and Jeannie came over with a bowl full of freshly made sugar cookie dough.  John shook his head in amazement.  “How many cookies are we making, Jeannie?”

“Oh, a few dozen.  A couple of the other room parents are making cookies as well but I want to make sure everyone gets at least one.”

“Wow.”  John watched her quickly flatten the dough and go back in the kitchen.  How she managed this all was beyond him.  He’d never made cookies before in his life.  He’d eaten plenty, for sure, but the household cook always made them.  John snuck a piece of dough from the edge, tasting the sweetness.

“Saw that,” Rodney said, pulling out a chair next to them.

John grinned and tightened his grip on Maddie as she stretched to grab a different cookie cutter.  “You saw nothing.”

“Eating raw cookie dough will give you salmonella.”

_Clink_.  A tray of freshly baked cookies landed in front of Rodney.  John took a deep breath in through his nose.  Oh, that smelled really good.  “I’ve been eating raw dough for years, Mer, and I’ve never gotten sick.”  Jeannie set a container next to the tray in front of Rodney.  “You are now in charge of decorating.  These are cooled enough to add frosting.  John, you’re welcome to help.  I’ve got several different colors in here, as well as sprinkles.  Have at it!”

John held back a laugh as Rodney stared at the cookies in front of him.  John could see trees, bells, and a couple reindeer. 

“I’ve never decorated a cookie in my life.  What am I supposed to do?”

John laughed.  “Aw, come on.  It can’t be _that_ hard.”

Rodney scowled at him.  “Fine.  If you think it’s so easy, you go first.”  He gestured at the tray.

John shrugged.  “Okay.  Hey, kiddo, seat’s all yours.”  John lifted Maddie off his lap and stood, set her back down and grabbed an empty chair.  Dragging it in between her and Rodney, John plucked a tree off the tray then reached for the container.  “Let’s see, trees are typically green, right?  Ah, yep.”  He pulled out a tube of green icing.

Madison stopped cutting out cookies to watch as he squeezed a few dollops of icing onto the cookie then grabbed a knife and spread it out so it covered the whole of the cookie tree.  John returned to the container Jeannie had brought, pulled out a tube of yellow frosting and squeezed three loops across the tree for garland then went looking through the sprinkle options.  A bottle of red glittery sprinkles caught his eye and he used that, pouring them over the whole cookie.  Done, John raised an eyebrow in Rodney’s direction in challenge.  “See?  Not that hard.  Your turn.”

Rodney’s eyes narrowed.  “Fine.”  Scanning the cookies, Rodney picked out a reindeer.  He studied the contents of the container for a couple minutes then pulled out two tubes of frosting: white and red.  Then he took the yellow from where John had left it on the table and went to work on his cookie.

John settled back in his chair, amused that Rodney was taking this so seriously.  He was rather proud of his cookie decorating, considering it was his first time.  He reached over and took another bite of cookie dough, Madison giggling even as Jeannie chastised him from the kitchen.  What could he say?  It was good.

“There!” Rodney said, waving at his reindeer.

John leaned forward to look.  He’d made Rudolph; well that explained why he’d needed the red.  “Why is it just plain white?  And what’s that yellow around his neck?”

Rodney huffed, “That’s the jingle bell harness!  And reindeer can be white!  It’s not like I can make _brown_ with the ingredients to hand.  Also, brown frosting?  Gross.”

“Well,” John frowned.  “What about some sprinkles, then?”

“Sprinkles?”

“Yeah.  He looks so . . . bland.  You need to spice it up a little.  Decorate him.”

“It _is_ decorated.  And what makes you think it’s a he?  Male reindeer lose their antlers in the winter, so if Santa really does exist, his sleigh would be pulled by a team of eight _female_ reindeer,” Rodney retorted.

His tone might be a little arch, but John could see the glint in his eyes that told otherwise.  Rodney was enjoying this, despite his efforts to try and hide it.  Why else would he come out and willingly let his sister put him to work?  John took out a couple bottles of sprinkles, popped the tabs, then poured them over the reindeer.

“Hey!” Rodney squawked, and tried to push John’s hands away.  They had a minor scuffle and the top of one of the bottles came off.

John bit his lip, trying to keep the laugh in. 

Rodney scowled darkly at him but it was hard to take him seriously, considering he now had red and green sprinkles in his hair.  He brushed a hand through his hair, the sprinkles falling to his shoulders and the floor.  John couldn’t hold it in anymore and laughed. 

“Oh you think that’s funny?” Rodney asked, a devilish gleam in his eye.

John nodded, still laughing with his hand over his mouth.

Rodney narrowed his eyes.  Then he reached for the green glitter sprinkles, unscrewed the top and flung a handful at John’s head.

John blinked, watching sprinkles fall from his hair as he moved his head.  Rodney looked back at him, a smug expression on his face.  John narrowed his eyes.  “Oh it’s on.”

When Jeannie came back into the dining room to see what the cause of laughter was, John and Rodney were caught red-handed in the middle of a sprinkle war.  “What in the world--?”  Jeannie shook her head. 

John felt his ears turn red and he ducked his head, avoiding her gaze. 

“He started it,” Rodney said.

John yanked his head up and said, “No no no.  I did not!  You started it!”

“You dumped sprinkles on me!”

“That was totally an accident!  You, however, threw the first handful.”  John turned to Jeannie.  “He totally started it.”

Rodney snapped, “Did not!  You did!”

Jeannie held out her hands, giggling.  “Okay, okay.  Regardless of who started it, there are now sprinkles all over the table, the floor and the two of you.  So . . . while Maddie and I attempt to finish the original goal, you two are on clean-up duty.  Did you even decorate any cookies before decorating yourselves?”

John looked at the table and winced a little.  His tree and Rodney’s reindeer were there . . . . . under remains of the sprinkle fight.  “Sorry, Jeannie.  We, uh, got a little carried away.”

“I see.  Well, clean it up.  Then you’re no longer on cookie decorating.  Go . . . shovel the driveway or something.  Maddie and I’ll handle this, right, honey?”

“Uh huh!” Madison bobbed her head in a series of nods, her little eyes wide as she stared at them.

John ruffled his hair, trying to get the sprinkles out.  Yeah, they’d made quite the mess but damn had it been fun!

Catching Rodney’s eye as he stood up to shake the sprinkles out of his clothes, he saw the same enjoyment shining in his eyes.  Feeling his chest tighten with emotion, John leaned over and kissed him.

“Ewwww,” Maddie said and they pulled apart, Rodney blushing a little.

“Sorry, kiddo,” John said brightly.  Merry Christmas to him, he thought with a smile as he grabbed the broom.

“You’re ridiculous, you know that, right?” Rodney muttered as he started sweeping sprinkles onto the floor with his hands.

“Have a little fun, McKay.  Hey, you ever been in a snowball fight?”

 

* * *

 

John stood in the far corner of the backstage area, watching with a sort of fascinated horror as Jeannie attempted to get everyone ready.  There were kids all over, in various stages of dress.  He particularly liked the boy who was in a pair of red and white elf socks and pants with suspender straps.  No shirt.  No shoes.  Just that.  And he was loudly refusing to finish getting dressed, while what John assumed was his mother attempted to get him to put a shirt on.

John shifted a little further back, trying to avoid being dragged into the craziness.  He was starting to feel claustrophobic with all the noise going on.  It didn’t help that he’d resolved to tell Rodney about his decision tomorrow.  Hopefully it would go okay.  Things were different in the military now; they could openly be together.  He hoped it would go okay.

And by okay, John meant he knew they’d fight but ultimately find a way to be together.

Jeannie buzzed by, a clipboard in hand, looking a little frazzled.  He got a quick, “Hi, John,” before she was out of sight. 

Madison flew by, her angel wings flapping and halo bobbing.  Arm in arm with another girl dressed as an angel, they were talking too fast for him to catch the words which only added to his anxiety. 

Then he caught sight of Rodney across the room, eyes wide, music books clutched to his chest.  Maybe they could both use a bit of a breather so John took a bracing breath and crossed the room.  He dodged parents, the three wise men, a rolling baby doll he assumed was going to be baby Jesus and a handful of fake snow—where did they get _that_ from?—before he finally made it to the other side.  Reaching Rodney, John tapped him on the shoulder.

Rodney threw him a startled look and John tilted his head towards the doors to the hallway.  Rodney nodded rapidly and followed him out.

The noise volume dropped immediately, thank god, and John found it a little easier to breathe once it was just the two of them in the hall.  “Are you okay?” he asked Rodney.

Rodney stared at him.  “Me?  What about you?”

John shook his head.  “I’m fine.”  It was true.  Once he'd stepped out into the empty corridor, he’d felt much better.  “You look a little freaked, what’s up?”

“Nothing.”  Rodney’s voice went up an octave.  John noticed the books were a little crumpled around the edges—evidence of Rodney’s nervousness.

“What are you nervous about?  You’ve got the music right in front of you,” John pointed out.

Rodney rolled his eyes.  “You’ve clearly never performed in front of an audience.  It doesn’t matter if I have the music right in front of me; I can still screw up.  And do you know what happens when I screw up?  The kids forget the words and stop singing or talking.  Then the pageant comes to a dead stop and then I get blamed for the kids screwing up and—”

“Rodney!” John interrupted, grabbing hold of his shoulders, and looked him in the eye.  “You will be fine.  It’s the same old Christmas carols that have been sung for years.  Even if you miss a note, the kids know the words.  It’ll be fine.  Besides,” he added with a shrug, dropping his hands, “if anything’s going to go wrong, it’ll be the set pieces.  Something’s gonna come crashing down.  I’m not a carpenter.  I’ve got no experience in construction; I’m a pilot.  I barely knew what I was doing.”

Rodney frowned at him and scoffed, “Oh, _please_.  I bet you anything that these are the best built sets this school has ever seen and they’ll still be using them in this asinine pageant fifty years from now.”

John grinned.  _Gotcha._

Rodney narrowed his eyes.  “Wait.  Did you just—oh my god you did!”  Rodney smacked him on the arm with the music books.  “So that’s the plan, huh?  Pretend you’re not also freaking out then belittle your own efforts so I feel compelled to defend and validate you and therefore stop freaking out myself?”

John shrugged, still grinning.  “It worked, didn’t it?”

Rodney leaned over to kiss him lightly, his voice soft.  “It did, thank you.”

John rubbed the back of his neck.  His anxiety was long gone and of course he’d help Rodney ease his.  It was a foregone conclusion that he would.  But this thing with Rodney was still so new, maybe Rodney didn’t know that.  Someone raced past him into the backstage area, knocking John off balance for a moment.

“Cassie, slow down!”

John found it curious how Rodney’s expression changed in an instant from soft to irritated, how he moved to hide the music books behind his back.

“Carter,” Rodney said sourly as they turned to see who had spoken.  “What are you doing here?  You don’t live around here nor do you have kids, as I recall.”

John studied the woman as she joined them.  She wore her blonde hair in a pixie cut and had on a white flowery dress that fit her figure quite nicely.  Her stance as she stopped was familiar.  Military?  Who was she and why did Rodney not like her?  It was obvious from his reaction so John settled his weight more firmly, preparing to defend his . . . Rodney.

“Hi, Rodney,” she said with a smile.  “No, Jack and I don’t have kids, you’re correct on that.  But Cassandra—the girl who just ran past you—is my goddaughter and her mom, Janet, is a longtime friend of mine.  She invited us out to see the pageant.  Cassie’s got a solo.”  Her attention shifted to John and gave him a scrutinizing look.  That, at least, John was intimately familiar with.  Everyone did that to him at some point.  She stuck her hand out to him.  “Hi, I’m sorry.  I don’t believe we’ve met.  I’m Samantha Carter, but everyone calls me Sam.”

“John—” he started and shook her hand but didn’t get the chance to introduce himself and ask how they knew each other. 

Someone else joined the group to do it for him.  A very unlikely yet familiar older gentleman wearing a plain black suit came up next to Sam and asked in confusion, “Sheppard?  That you?  What are you doing here?”

John stared, unable to comprehend how this was even possible.  His body moved of its own accord, back straightening as his right hand went to his brow.  His lips felt numb as he said, “General O’Neill.”

Rodney looked from John to O’Neill a couple times then turned to John and demanded, “You know Jack?  How do you know Jack?”

O’Neill interjected, “At ease, Sheppard.  We’re off duty.  At least, I assume you are . . . ?”

John gave a jerky nod and lowered his hand but he couldn’t relax.  “Yes, sir.”

“ _John_ ,” Rodney repeated, “how do you two know each other?”

Sam added, “Yeah, I’d kinda like to know that too.  Jack, I didn’t think you knew anyone who worked for Rodney?”

“Oh, I don’t,” O’Neill said easily.  “I try to pretend I don’t know McKay.  On a good day, it works.”

Rodney scowled at him and John felt himself bristle at the implied insult but he didn’t dare say a word.  Not when O’Neill was the reason he wasn’t immediately tossed out of the air force after his stunt.  “If I have to ask again,” Rodney said loudly, “I will be very pissed.  And John’s not an employee.”

O’Neill rolled his eyes and slid an arm around Sam’s waist, tucking her against his side.  “Keep your panties on, McKay.  Sheppard and I ran into each a couple weeks ago, had a brief chat about—certain things.”  O’Neill turned to John and asked, “What’re you doing out here, Colonel?  And with McKay, of all people.”

“Uh, sir, well—I—” John stumbled over the words, trying to think of something to say.  “I—I’ve known Rodney for years, sir.  I’m—I’m visiting.  For Christmas.  He—”

“John’s with me,” Rodney interrupted, glaring at Sam and O’Neill.  He reached over to take John’s hand, tangling their fingers together with a defiant air.  John swallowed hard.

O’Neill frowned a bit, looking between them.  “So . . . you made your choice, then?  Gotta say, not what I thought it would be but, hey, maybe it’s the one you needed.”

John winced even as Rodney threw him a look.  Shit.  Now Rodney was going to demand an explanation and O’Neill had it wrong.  How was he going to explain this?

“John!  Mer!  Get in here, we’re starting soon!” Jeannie called.

John had never been more grateful to hear her order him around.

O’Neill and Sam started down the hall to take their seats but after a few feet, O’Neill stopped and turned around.  “Oh, and Sheppard?”

John raised an eyebrow.  “Yes, sir?”

“Make damn sure of your decision.  You won’t get another shot.” 

John thought of the draft sitting in his email box.  It had been sitting there for a few days now, notifying General Landry of his decision to drop down a rank.  It was still sitting in his drafts because every time John went to hit send, something stopped him.  He couldn’t give up flying, but the longer he stayed in Maple Ridge . . . the longer he got to know Rodney and his family . . . the more he realized he didn’t want to give up Rodney either.  “Yes, sir,” John said quietly, his mind on that email and his inability to hit send.  O’Neill seemed to get all of that in those two words because he nodded then left with Sam.

Turning back to Rodney to try and work some damage control, he caught sight of Rodney’s face and felt his stomach sink.

Rodney shifted so he was facing John full on, no longer holding John’s hand.  Arms crossed, brow furrowed, Rodney asked, his tone acid, “You wanna explain what _that_ was all about?”

God, he so didn’t want to go into this right now.  Rubbing the back of his neck, John tried, “Not really?” 

Rodney looked back at him, raised an eyebrow and waited in silence.

John sighed.  Reluctantly, he explained, “I met General O’Neill before coming out here.  I was in D.C. getting my ass reamed by General Landry and he was in there before me, apparently trying to help.  That’s all.”

“Uh huh,” Rodney hummed thoughtfully, still frowning at him.  “And that bit about making sure about your decision?  What decision would that be?”

Oh fucking . . . John bit his lip and looked through the door to the backstage.  “Look, can we just—can we talk about this later?  It’s . . . this isn’t the right time, okay?”

“Right—right _time_?”  John winced as Rodney got angrier, his voice rising.  “Fine.  Fine, that’s just fine.  Don’t tell me.  Keep your damn secrets.  Not like it means anything, right?  I’m just some guy.  Just an old boyfriend you wanted a fling with for the holiday.  I get it.  Clearly I was wrong, thinking something was happening here, that this would continue after Christmas.  I can see now that you never thought that so yeah, why should I know if you’ve got some big decision to make?  Why should I be a part of it?  I wasn’t then and I’m not now.  You know what, John, screw you.”

“No, Rodney, wait!”  John lunged forward, grabbing Rodney’s elbow as he started to stalk down the hall in the direction O’Neill and Carter had gone.

Rodney ripped his arm free.  “What?” he snapped. 

“Jesus Christ, Rodney, it’s not like that and you know it!”

Rodney crossed his arms, then crossed them again when he poked himself with the music books.  “Do I?”

“Yeah.”

“So what is it like then?  Am I misunderstanding things?”  Rodney took a step forward and poked John in the chest.  “I’m going back to Seattle after Christmas.  You know that; it’s never been a secret.  I’ve always been open about my feelings and my plans.  But you know what’s been a secret?  You.”

“What?”

“You have always kept things close to the vest, making me guess and wonder.  Did I ever really know you?”

“You know me, Rodney.”  John took a half step backwards, hurt.  “You’ve always been able to see the real me.  You’re the only one who could after—after Mom died.”

“Really?  Because here we are—again, I add—as your secret destroys whatever’s going on between us.  I wanted you to come to Seattle with me, you know.  I was going to ask you if you wanted to come with me after Christmas, maybe spend New Year’s together . . . but I don’t know if you have to be somewhere or if you do, when.  Are you stationed anywhere?  Were you even planning to tell me about this or were you just going to flash a letter in my face in a couple days and say bye?  Do you even _want_ to be with me?”

“You’re never gonna let me forget that, are you?” John retorted, feeling his own anger rise.  “Twenty years and you’re still holding onto a stupid college mistake.”

“Stupid . . .?  Oh, so I’m a mistake now?”  Rodney shook his head.  “Well, great to know where I stand.”

“You’re not—Argh!”  John ran a hand through his hair and made a frustrated sound.  He flexed his hands, restraining the urge to shake sense into him.  This was the annoying part of being in a relationship with Rodney.  He took everything so personally and he found insult in everything.  “I fucked up, Rodney!  Okay?  I get that.  Alright?  I fucked up when we were in college and I fucked up in Afghanistan and I’m doing it again right now.  My life’s just one fucking mistake after another.”  Christ, those were his father’s words.  John had to take a deep breath.  He walked a couple steps away then turned and came back.  “Look.  I want an us.  Okay?  I want to be with you.  That hasn’t changed and I’m sorry if I ever made you doubt that.”

Rodney eyed him suspiciously.  “And the decision you have to make?”

_God_.  “Landry gave me an ultimatum.  Demotion and reassignment or discharge.  O’Neill stepped in and made sure the brass didn’t just kick me out.”

“Ultimatum,” Rodney repeated.  “Those typically come with deadlines.  When’s yours?”

“Day after tomorrow.  He’s waiting for my email.”

“I see.”  Rodney’s expression was unreadable, his arms still crossed tight across his chest.  After a moment, Rodney shook his head.  “Well, don’t let me keep you.”

John blinked.  “What?”

“Obviously you’re going to choose the demotion.  Makes sense since you haven’t told me and I assume that you probably weren’t until you had to leave.  God forbid I get in the way of your precious military career.  I learned long ago that I wasn’t nearly as important to you as you were to me.  Glad to see nothing’s changed.”  Rodney sounded defeated.

“Rodney, wait, just—just listen for a minute,” John pleaded, reaching out.

But Rodney pulled away.  “No.  I’m glad it’s all out in the open.  Now I know where I stand.  Thanks for the fun but don’t worry about me.  It’s all about you, anyway.”

Stunned, John stood frozen to the spot as Rodney walked away from him.  He didn’t go backstage, instead heading down the hall into the theatre.  John ordered his feet to move, to run after him, to try and—and make him understand.  But it was like his mind wasn’t connected to his body and all he could feel was . . .

Numb.

“John, what are you doing?  We’re about to start!”  Jeannie’s voice dragged him back to the present.

He mentally shook himself.  “Right.  What do you need?”  John threw one last longing glance down the hall before diving back into the chaos backstage.  He’d find Rodney later, try to talk to him again.  They had to at least ride back to the Millers’ together, anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bet you didn't see that coming, did you? ;)


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Rodney slammed the music books onto the piano stand, fury vibrating through him.  Fury, and heartbreak.  How _could_ he?  How could John do this to him again?

Sitting down, Rodney pulled the cover off the keys.  Spending time together, smiling at him, _kissing_ him . . . . and all the while, John knew he was leaving and didn’t say a fucking word about it!  He scoffed.  John wanted to be together.  Oh sure!  Yeah, they’d be a great couple.  A relationship where one couldn’t trust the other with big decisions.  Who kept secrets.

The lights in the theatre dimmed and Rodney’s throat tightened.  He angrily dashed away a tear.  He wished to god he’d never come back here for Christmas.

And Jeannie!

Oh, he was going to kill her for this.  Making John stay was all her idea in the first place!  It was her fault he’d opened himself up again.  Her fault that he’d gotten to know John again . . . .

Gotten to fall in love with John again . . . .

He sniffed and blinked several times.  Rodney angrily swiped his face.  No more dating.  It just opened one up to the pain of heartbreak and, having experienced true heartbreak in his life already, it just wasn’t worth it.

He’d survived without John for twenty years.  He’d survive another twenty.  He had plenty of work to keep him busy.

With that thought firmly in mind, Rodney opened the first book as the lights shut off.  In the darkness onstage, he saw set pieces wheeled out.  When the kids had gotten into place, Rodney played the intro to Winter Wonderland and the lights came up.

 

* * *

 

The theatre was empty, the audience finishing up the last of the baked goods before heading home.  Up onstage, John sat on the risers, his borrowed suit jacket lying next to him, the sleeves of his borrowed shirt rolled up to his elbows.  He rested his elbows on his knees, despair setting in.  He didn’t know what to do.  After the last song, Rodney had vanished.  John had lost track of Madison and Jeannie in the chaos which left him effectively stranded here until he felt like walking to his hotel or seeing if they had a taxi service in town.

“You know,” a voice echoed in the empty space and John looked around for the source.  “This isn’t quite what I thought you were up to when you told me you were staying in some small town in Canada.”

A figure stepped up on stage and John made a disbelieving noise.  “What the hell are you doing here?”

Evan Lorne walked over and looked down at him.  He wore a flight jacket over his jeans.  “Came to spend Christmas with my best friend.”  He sat down next to John. 

“But—your sister?”

“Understands.  She’s spent the last week and a half with me and she’ll see me again before she leaves.  It turns out there’s at least one good thing about small towns,” he continued, seemingly oblivious to John’s mood.  “They keep track of visitors.  When I arrived at the closest hotel, I asked the receptionist if you were staying there.  Sweet kid, by the way.  Anyway, she said you were but I wouldn’t find you there.  Apparently, you were at the school theatre with most of the town folk, helping out with the Christmas pageant.  Well, I couldn’t pass that up so here we are.”

John said quietly, “Yup.  Here I am.”

Evan nudged his shoulder.  “What’s got you in such a mood?”

Huh.  Guess he noticed after all.  John shrugged.  “Fucked up again.  Story of my life,” he answered bitterly.

Evan sighed.  “I told you to tell him.”

John wasn’t even surprised that Evan knew what he meant.  He shrugged again.  “I was going to, tomorrow.”

“So how’d he find out?”

“Doesn’t matter.  He hates me now and I can’t fix it.”

“Okay.  I’m gonna need the whole story and a couple beers.”  Evan stood.  “What do you say we head to your hotel room and talk?”

“No car.  Rode here with him.”

“Okay.  We’ll take my rental, then.”  Evan held out a hand.  “Come on, Shep.  Let’s go.  You look like you could use a beer, too.”

Understatement of the year.  But John picked up Kaleb’s suit jacket and let his friend tug him to his feet.  Maybe if he got drunk enough, he could forget this night ever happened.

Yeah, and pigs would fly.

 

* * *

 

“Ready to go?” Rodney asked his sister, shifting his feet and looking around the crowd.  His fingers tapped against the side of his leg.

Jeannie frowned at him.  “What’s your hurry?”

“I have work to do.”

“Yeah, well, so do I.  Here.  Right now, in fact.”  Jeannie turned back to cleaning up the table.  It looked like scavengers had gotten to the goods.  “Why don’t you go find John?  I’m sure he’s feeling a little out of his depth right now and could use an escape.”

Rodney looked around again.  He wanted nothing to do with that man.  He just needed Jeannie to agree to _leave_.  He fidgeted, unable to sit still.  He saw Carter and quickly ducked around the fake tree in the corner.  _Definitely_ did not want to talk to her.

Kaleb walked up a couple minutes later, Madison on his hip.  She still wore her angel dress, the wings and halo dangling from Kaleb’s free hand.  Her head was on his shoulder, eyes closed.  “Any chance you can get out of here early, hun?  Someone needs to go to bed.”

Jeannie looked up and smiled, her expression soft.  She reached out to brush one of Madison’s curls behind her ear.  The girl didn’t even so much as shift.  “Yeah, alright.  Let me just let the other PTA moms know I’m headed out.”

“Great,” Rodney said with feeling and stuck out his hand.  “Give me the keys; I’ll pull the car out front.”

Jeannie gave him a weird look, her brow furrowed in confusion, as she reached for her purse and pulled out her key ring.  “Can you text John?  Tell him we’re leaving so he’s not left behind?”

“Sure,” Rodney said shortly and walked outside.  Like hell he was going to do that.  John deserved to be stranded after what he’d done.

Rodney tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, waiting for Kaleb to finish getting Madison settled in the backseat.  Jeannie climbed in the front passenger seat and leaned around to look behind her.  Kaleb pulled the sliding door shut and Rodney shifted gears, pulling away from the sidewalk.

“Whoa, wait,” Jeannie said in surprise.  “Where’s John?”

“Not coming.”  Rodney’s grip tightened on the wheel.

“What do you mean, not coming?  Mer, his car’s in my driveway.  How’s he going to get back to his hotel?”

“Don’t know, don’t care.  Not my problem.”

“What?”  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Jeannie give her husband a concerned look then face him.  “Mer, what’s going on?  Did you and John have a fight or something?”

He gritted his teeth.  “Yeah, or something.”

“Turn around.  We’re going back to get John and you’re going to tell me what you did to screw this up.  And then you’re going to fix it.  I went through a lot, you know, trying to get the two of you back together and you’re doing what you _always_ do!”

Stopping at a red light, Rodney stared at her in shock.  “What _you_ went through?  What I _always_ do?  This isn’t on me!  This is all your fault, for meddling in my life like you _always_ do!”  He used the exact same emphasis on the phrase as she had and had the satisfaction of watching her recoil.  “If you hadn’t forced him to stay, none of this would have happened!  I would be happily getting ready to go back to work, blissfully unaware of just how much it would hurt to be betrayed by him again.  Happy now?  Your inability to stay out of my life has now ruined any chance I ever had to be with—with someone.  So just—just drop it.”  His voice flattened at the end.

The car behind him started honking and Rodney gave them the middle finger through the mirror before driving off.

“Meredith,” she started.

“No.”  He couldn’t look at her, his knuckles white around the wheel.  His eyes burned.  “I’m done talking about this.”

 

* * *

 

An hour and a couple beers later, John lifted his current half-empty bottle and said, “And that’s the whole story.”

Lounging in the only chair in the room, Evan looked back at him.  “Wow.  That is—”

“Yup.”  John took a long sip and rested his elbow on his knee, leaned his head back against the edge of the mattress.  He’d decided to sit on the floor, back to the bed.  He didn’t deserve to sit on the soft, comfy bed.  “Should’ve accepted it a long time ago . . . I‘m not meant to get what I want.  That’s what Dad always said, anyway.  Turns out he was right.”

“You’re an idiot.”

John lifted his head and looked at his friend.  “What?”

Evan leaned forward in the chair, elbows on his knees, and repeated forcefully, “You are an idiot.”

John made a face and turned away.  “Well, that’s not nice.”

“John.”  Evan sighed.  “I get that you’re hurt and trying to numb the pain, but that’s a short-term thing.  Look, you’re both being idiots, if that helps.”

John took another swallow.  “Nope.  Doesn’t matter what you say ‘cause he hates me.  And it’s my fault.  My own goddamned fault.”  He lifted his bottle for another sip only to have it pulled from his hands.  “Hey!” he said.

Evan hauled him to his feet, looked him in the eye and said seriously, “What the hell are you doing?”

John blinked.  “What?”

Evan smacked him in the arm.  “Why are you here when you should be going after him?”

John scowled.  “Didn’t you hear me?  Rodney doesn’t want to see me.  What would be the point in going after him?”

Evan scowled back at him then looked around the room.  He reached over and picked something up, holding it in front of John’s face.  His eyes crossed, trying to see it, and he took a step back.  His chest tightened.  Lorne was holding up one of Maddie’s letters, the one with the drawing on it of her, her family and John.  The biggest _what if_ in his life.  “You see this?” his friend demanded.

John averted his gaze, dropping onto the bed.  Lorne shoved it in his face again.

“You could have this!  You want this, I know you do, or you wouldn’t be all depressed and shit right now.”

John swallowed hard and shoved it away.  “So what if I am?  I’m allowed to have feelings.”

“Yes, John, you are.”  Evan sat down next to him and his voice softened.  “But you aren’t dealing with them.  You’re trying to drown them.”

“And your point here is . . . ?” John asked tiredly, flopping onto his back.

A pillow smacked him in the face.  Startled, John barely registered the event before the next hit came.  When a third one started in, John grabbed hold of the pillow and snatched it away.  Sitting up, he glared at Evan and said pointedly, “ _Ow_.”

Lorne glared back and smacked him with another pillow.  “I can _not_ believe you right now.  You have the chance to get the love of your life back and you’re _here_?  You are an idiot, John Sheppard!”  He punctuated every word with a smack with the pillow.

John wrestled that pillow away as well, tossed it away, and snapped, “Flying is _everything_ to me, Evan!  You flew; you know how it feels to be up in the air.  To feel _free_.  I can’t give that up!”

Lacking ammo, Lorne settled for shoving him off the bed.  “There are other ways to fly!”

John got to his feet, a little out of breath from the tussle but also from the conversation.  The pounding of his heart had pushed whatever buzz he’d gotten from the beer out of his system.  Just his luck.  Now he couldn’t shove the feelings away.  “And if that doesn’t work?  If I’m grounded, forever?  That is the worst thing that can happen to a pilot.”

Evan glared up at him then blew out his breath, a disappointed look on his face.  “Well, then, I guess the real question is, what do you want more?  Flying.  Or Rodney.”  He stood and got into John’s personal space to add, “And if you actually have to _think_ about whether there is an actual choice to be made over flying or love for more than five seconds, I swear to God I am throwing you out the window.  I don’t even care what you land on because you know what your decision should be.  I shouldn’t have to tell you what you already know.”

John stared at him, chest heaving.  His hands clenched and unclenched as they stood there staring at each other. 

Evan’s eyes narrowed when John didn’t move.  “Apparently I _do_ have to tell you.  Jesus Christ, you can fly anything, Shep.  You’re the best damn pilot I’ve ever known!  You also happen to be fucking loaded.  So take the fucking discharge then buy a fucking plane or helicopter!  Now swallow your goddamned pride and go get your guy!”

John stared at him for another minute, his mouth hanging open.  Evan was such an easygoing guy, it took a lot to really piss him off.  And apparently, John had managed the impossible.  He ran his hands over his face with a soft laugh.  Well, shit.  Yeah, he could do that.  Not like his pay or his inheritance was doing anything other than accruing interest in his bank account.  “Why did that never occur to me?”

Evan backed away, still eyeing him warily but he sounded calmer.  “Because you’re an idiot.  And you learned at an early age to hide your true feelings.  But, John—hiding them only hurts you in the long run.  Hurts him, too.  And as your best friend, it kills me to see you like this when I know you could finally be happy.”

John sat down on the bed, feeling weak in the knees.  He’d never touched the money his mom left him, not in all the years since she’d died.  With what he’d been stockpiling since he enlisted plus the inheritance . . . . yeah.  He surely had enough to afford his own plane.  What would he do with it, though?  He shook his head.  That didn’t matter.  What mattered was Rodney.  Lorne was right.  He needed to talk to Rodney.  He had to explain.  “God, I’m an idiot,” he muttered into his hands.

“Now he understands,” Evan said with a sigh.

Something heavy hit him in the side and John glared at his friend.  “Would you stop hitting me?  I heard you, all right?”

Evan zipped his jacket and gestured impatiently at John, whose own jacket was sitting in his lap.  So that was what had hit him.  “Get up.  Come on.  I’m driving but you’re going to have to give me directions.”

“Directions?  To where?” John asked, even as he stood and shrugged into his jacket.

Evan opened the door.  “To the sister’s house.  That’s where he’s staying, right?”

John grinned and followed him out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A chapter in which Rodney yells at his sister and John gets called an idiot several times by his friend. That part, especially, was fun to write :D Almost done, and I'm rather sad about that. Reading everyone's reactions has been almost as much fun as writing this fic!


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Jeannie twisted the stem of her wine glass and stared at the tree lights.  This wasn’t at all how she’d thought tonight would go.  Madison was fast asleep upstairs and would no doubt start crying when she learned that both Colonel John and Uncle Mer would not be here for Christmas Day.  She took a sip and clutched the pillow tighter to her chest.

Mer had been so upset when he’d left, shoving his belongings into his bags.  He’d claimed that Radek needed his help with something at work and he had to go, but she couldn’t really believe it.  Not after what he’d said in the car.  The devastated look in his eyes as he blamed her for his broken heart . . . it had hurt.  A lot.

She had just been trying to help.

The past couple weeks, watching the two of them interact, Jeannie had known there was something special there.  She had known that they both needed the connection, even if they didn’t realize it.

And now that connection was broken and she didn’t know why, or even how.  If she knew that, maybe she could fix it.

Jeannie sighed.  And there she was again, planning to meddle in her brother’s love life, just like he’d accused her of doing earlier.

The sound of the doorbell drew her from her thoughts.  Kaleb called softly, “I got it.”

“Thanks,” she called back and took a sip of wine, resting the glass on the couch cushion beside her.

She heard her husband open the door, heard low voices then Kaleb called out in an odd tone, “Jeannie, can you come here?”

Groaning a little, Jeannie set her glass on the coffee table, tossed the pillow aside and climbed to her feet.  Heading for the door, she asked, “Who is it?”

Kaleb stepped aside, holding the door open.

Jeannie’s eyes narrowed and she strode forward, anger spiking so fast it nearly took her breath away.  She slapped the man standing in the doorway with enough force to send him stumbling back.  He would have fallen if not for the second man with him, steadying him.  “What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded.

John Sheppard rubbed his red and no doubt stinging cheek and avoided her gaze.  He muttered out of the corner of his mouth, “Told you this was a bad idea.”

The other man with him pushed him forward and said, “And I told you, you needed to do it, anyway.  Go on.”

John grimaced then lowered his hand and looked at her.  “Hi, Jeannie.”

She glared at him.  “You have three seconds to get off my porch before I shove you off it.”

He grimaced again.  “I deserve that.  But just—I need to talk to Rodney.  Need to—to explain.  Things.”

Jeannie crossed her arms.  “And what _things_ would that be?  How you broke his heart?  Because I don’t think he needs to discuss that right now.”

“It wasn’t—look, can you just—can you get him?”

“You really think I’m going to let you dig the knife in deeper?”

John shook his head and turned to his friend.  “This isn’t working.”

His friend simply folded his arms and said calmly, “Try again.”

Jeannie shifted her gaze to him, wondering who he was and why he was so insistent.  John blew out his breath and turned back to her.  She lifted an eyebrow, waiting.  She may not know what had happened between them but Mer was really hurting and she’d be damned if she’d make it easy on John.

“There was a . . . misunderstanding, between us.  I’d like to clear it up.  Explain things better than I did before.”

Okay, that was a decidedly better attempt.  She’d give him that.  But still not good enough to make her capitulate.  “What sort of misunderstanding?”

John shifted his weight, rubbed the back of his neck.  “Rodney may have gotten the impression that I didn’t want to be with him,” he said awkwardly.

“And how would he have gotten that impression?”

“Because I’m an idiot,” John blurted out.

Jeannie smiled at him, not nicely.  “Now _that_ we can all agree on.”

“No!  I—” John rubbed his face and now she could see a bit of desperation in his eyes.  “I love him.  Jeannie, I—I’m in love with Rodney and I have been for years.  I’d forgotten . . . what that feels like.  What it means.  And I made a stupid decision that I regret very much and I just want the chance to set it right.  Please.  Would you please just go get Rodney and let me talk to him?  Let me fix things.”

Jeannie tilted her head, studying him.  His friend was nodding, seemingly pleased with John’s little speech.  Hmm . . . he seemed sincere.  She looked at Kaleb, who’d been silent during the whole conversation, and lifted her eyebrow, silently asking what he thought. 

Kaleb shrugged and said, “Tell him.”

John looked between them.  “Tell me—tell me what?  What’s going on?  Is Rodney okay?”

The concern in his voice as he considered the thought that Mer might be injured or something was what finally sold her.  “I believe you, John.  And I’m glad you want to fix things,” Jeannie said and the relief that crossed his face validated that belief.  “But I can’t go get Meredith.”

His face fell.  “What?  Why—why not?  He’s okay, right?  Look, I know he probably doesn’t want to see me but if you just—just let me talk to him, I can—”

“I can’t go get him,” Jeannie cut him off, “because he’s not here.”

John blinked several times, looked at Kaleb then back to her.  “Not . . . not here?”  She shook her head.  “Where is he?”

“Oh, probably back in Seattle by now.  Or close to it,” she answered.

“Seattle?”  John closed his eyes briefly then looked at his friend.  “Seattle.  He went home.”  He looked at her.  “Did he leave because—because of me?  Because of what I did?”

“That may have been part of it but he got a call.  Something about being needed at work.”

John turned away, went down the steps and stared up at the sky for a couple minutes.  He ran a hand through his hair, put his hands on his hips and lowered his head.  Jeannie wondered what was going through his mind right now.  His friend offered a smile and said, “Hi.  I’m Evan Lorne.  I’ve heard a lot about you.  It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You’ve—you’ve heard about us?” Jeannie said, startled.

“Yeah,” Evan nodded.  “Shep told me everything.  He really likes you guys, likes this town.  He’s had a hard life.  He’s been hiding behind walls and masks for so long, I don’t think he really knew what to do when someone finally got past them.  But your brother did.  And I’m guessing your brother’s the same way?”

Jeannie nodded, watching John pace a few steps in the snow and shake his head.  “Yeah, Mer relies on sarcasm and his genius to keep people away.  But he was happy, with John.  All I want is for my brother to be happy.”

Evan nodded, watching John as well.  “That’s all I want for John, too.  And from what I hear, they were pretty happy together.  Too bad they’re both damn stubborn.”

John abruptly turned and took the steps back up onto the porch.  “I know he won’t answer his phone if I call him, but this is better done in person, anyway.  Jeannie,” John looked at her, his expression earnest, “I promise I will fix this.  Will you tell me where Rodney works?”

She blinked.  “You want to go to Seattle?”

“I do.”

Evan clapped him on the shoulder, grinning.

Jeannie studied him for a moment then held up a finger.  “One second.”  She walked into the kitchen and ripped a piece of paper off the notepad she kept on the fridge.  Hoping Mer wouldn’t hate her for meddling one last time, she scribbled the address of Mer’s office on the paper and went back to the entryway.  “Here,” she said and held it out.

John took it like it was the Holy Grail, holding it carefully in his hand.  “This is his address?”

“His office.  That’s where you’ll find him.  Go.  You have my blessing, John.  But don’t make me regret it.”

“I won’t.  Thank you,” John said with feeling, clutching the piece of paper tight in his hand.

Jeannie smiled.  When they all just stood there, she laughed and waved him off.  “What are you doing still standing here?  Go on!  Your car’s on the street.”

Kaleb said, “Oh, hang on a sec.  We still have your clothes.”  He hurried down the hall and came back after a few seconds with a plastic bag that he handed to John. 

John grinned widely, relief still evident but now she could see hope dawning in his eyes.  “Thank you again, really.”

Kaleb wrapped an arm around her waist as John and Evan walked down the driveway and got into separate cars.  They watched as the two of them drove off and then she turned to him and asked, “Did I do the right thing?”

Kaleb kissed her.  “Your instinct was right.  John and Rodney are a couple of idiots but they’re in love.  Sometimes people need to lose it to realize just how special it is.  Hopefully Rodney doesn’t push him away too quickly.”

“Maybe I should call and let him know?”

“No.  I think it’ll go better if John takes him by surprise.  His guard will be down and John can get a few words in.”  Kaleb turned her away from the door, closing and locking the inner door.  “Come on, honey.  Let’s go to bed.  After all, Santa has to come pretty early tomorrow morning.”

She let him lead her up to bed, hoping that John would do just what Kaleb said and catch Mer off guard.  She had been right; they did belong together.  Now she just had to hope that Christmas magic would complete what she’d set in motion.

 

* * *

 

The benefit of driving at almost eleven o’clock at night on Christmas Eve was that there was practically no one on the roads but him.  He’d breezed through customs after showing his military ID and passport then headed south.  The Jeep handled the snowy highways with ease, even at a speed slightly higher than what was posted on the street signs.  He made it to the outskirts of downtown Seattle at just under two and a half hours later.

The city was quiet and John leaned forward to try to catch street signs in the falling snow.  How appropriate: a fresh snowfall on Christmas Eve.

It took him another twenty minutes to make his way through downtown to the address Jeannie had given him.  Making sure he wouldn’t be ticketed or towed or anything, John parked on the street and got out.  He shivered and shoved his hands into his pockets.  He stared up at the building, his breath visible as little puffs of fog in front of him.

_McKay Enterprises_ glowed pale blue above the double door entrance.  John stood there for a long few minutes, just staring at those two words, feeling the cold start to seep in past the leather.  His phone beeped.  John fumbled with stiff fingers to pull it out. 

_"This is a really nice hotel room.  By the way: get your ass in gear.”_

John laughed, his breath fogging the air.  Lorne.  Of course.  How had he—didn’t matter.  John needed the kick in the ass.  He replied with a picture of him flipping his friend off, then put his phone on silent, shoved it into the back pocket of his jeans, and strode towards the doors.  This was no different than anything he’d done in the military, right?  Walk into unfriendly territory, throw a live grenade into the midst, and wait for the fallout.

He was just hoping to emerge unscathed this time.

John stopped in the lobby and felt his mouth drop open a little.  Damn.  This was nice.  Looking around, John thought it kind of looked like the lobby of his father’s company, albeit a little more friendly looking.  At least to him.  Then again, he hadn’t been there since he was a teen.  He assumed the lobby would at least be decorated: Dad always made sure no one could accuse the Sheppards of skimping.

“Can I help you, sir?”

John turned to the security guard sitting at the desk.  He crossed the tiled floor to the desk and said, “Yeah, actually.  I’m looking for Dr. McKay.  Can you tell me which lab he’s in?”

The security guard was young, practically a kid.  He looked up at John and said apologetically, “I’m sorry, sir, but the building is closed for the holidays.”

Right.  Uh huh.  John leaned his arms on the desk and gave his most disarming smile.  “Look,” his gaze flicked to the name badge, “Officer Ford?  Hi.  So look, you and I both know that the fact that it’s a holiday means nothing to Dr. McKay.  I know he’s here and I know you know that I know that.  So just tell me where he is, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

The kid studied him.  “Who are you?  I’ve never seen you here before.”

“John Sheppard.  And you’re right; I haven’t been here before.  But you see, I’ve been deployed for a long time and all I want for Christmas is Rodney.  I know; it’s a horrible cliché, but it’s the truth.”

Ford was wavering; he could tell.  “Is Dr. McKay expecting you?”

Bingo.  John leaned a little further forward and winked.  Lowering his voice—which had the added effect of drawing Ford closer and making him lower his guard—John answered in a conspiratorial tone, “I’m here to surprise him.”

“Uh, I—I don’t think Dr. McKay is a big fan of surprises, Mr. Sheppard.”

“Lieutenant Colonel,” John corrected gently, for the last time.  “He’ll like this one.  Trust me.”

Ford glanced around the empty lobby, biting his lower lip. 

As a last ditch shot to convince him, John folded his hands together in a pleading gesture and asked, “Come on, it’s Christmas!  What do you say?  Help a guy out?”

Ford sighed then pulled open a drawer and handed John a visitor’s badge.  “Lab B-2.  Take the elevator down.  And please, don’t tell him it was me who let you in?”

John plucked the badge from the kid’s fingers with a wide grin.  “Thanks, kid.  Merry Christmas!”  He clipped it to the hem of his shirt and headed for the bank of elevators along the wall.  Step one: complete.

Step two: convince Rodney to listen to him.

Somehow, John just knew that would be the more difficult part of the night.

 

* * *

 

Rodney took a piece of the latest batch of test material Radek had whipped up and handed it to Colonel Caldwell.  His two cronies stepped forward to look over his shoulder as he examined it.  Rodney took another piece and started to bend and manipulate it.  “As you can see, Colonel, we’ve strengthened the material since your last visit so that it will deflect more attacks.”

Caldwell frowned as he duplicated Rodney’s actions with his piece.  “Then it’s flimsier.  If I can bend it like this, then so can a missile.  What makes this better than the previous ones?”

“Ah, well, it will disperse the effects of the hit in a wider area,” Rodney started.  His shoulder twitched.  He had the oddest feeling that someone was watching him.  Which was a singularly stupid thing to be thinking.  Of course someone was watching him.  Colonel Caldwell and his two aides were in the lab with him and Radek, watching him as he showed their latest version.

“The new material will absorb the force of the shot and while, yes, it will still be a hit, it will not be as badly damaged,” Zelenka jumped in when Rodney didn’t immediately continue talking. 

Distracted by the odd feeling, Rodney just let his colleague talk, nodding every now and then or jumping in whenever he thought a salient point needed to be made.  But the feeling of being watched never went away.  In fact, it grew stronger.

After a few minutes, when the itch became too much to ignore, Rodney shifted and glanced over his shoulder as casually as he could.  He felt his heart stop and the blood drained from his face.

No.

No way.

This—this had to be a trick, right?  Some sort of Ghost of Christmas Past come to haunt him, right?

Rodney would accept no other possibility that would explain why John Sheppard was currently standing in the doorway to his lab, arms crossed over his black leather jacket with a small smile on his face as he leaned against the door.

Rodney swallowed hard, shot a glance to Caldwell and Radek, and bit his lip.  They’d moved over to the computers for the simulation.  He looked back over at John and felt a surge of anger.  Setting his piece on the table, Rodney left Radek to finish up and stomped across the lab to where John stood.  Reaching him, Rodney didn’t wait for him to speak.  He planted both hands on John’s chest—ignoring how firm and well-muscled it was—and shoved John out into the hall.

Rodney followed him out, shut the door behind them, and then shoved John again.  As he stumbled back, Rodney hissed angrily, “What the _hell_ are you doing here?”

John caught his balance on the wall behind him and replied, “I need to talk to you.”

Rodney snapped, “Yeah, well, I don’t want to talk to you.”

He turned around to head back into the lab but John lunged forward and grabbed hold of him, his hand firm around Rodney’s forearm.  “No, wait!”

“Hey!”  Rodney tried to pull free but John tightened his grip.  He glared at John.  “Let go.”

“No,” John responded.  “Not until you hear what I have to say.”

“Not interested,” Rodney retorted and used his other hand to try and pull free.  “Now let go of me!”

“No!”  John grabbed Rodney’s other arm, holding him in place.  “Not until I explain some things.”

Rodney squirmed, trying to break free.  He was pissed by this point.  He didn’t need this complication right now.  Not with Caldwell deciding their fate on the other side of the door.  “You don’t need to explain anything, Sheppard.  I know everything I need to know.  I already knew that I came in second place to the military; I’ve always known that, on some level.  I don’t know why I bothered thinking things might have changed in twenty years but hey, guess even I get to be an idiot sometimes.  So just turn ar—”

“Imtakingthedischarge,” John blurted out in one breath, interrupting him.

Rodney stopped struggling.  The tirade died on his lips and he stared at John, his mouth agape.  He wasn’t altogether certain he’d heard correctly.  “Wh—what did you say?”

John took a breath.  Probably guessing that he wasn’t going to turn and run at the moment, his grip on Rodney’s arms loosened a bit.  John met his eyes and said again, his tone firm, “I’m taking the discharge.  I’m retiring from the air force, Rodney.”

Rodney stared at him, his brain frantically trying to compute what he’d just heard into something understandable.  “You . . . but . . . why?  Why would you—you love the military!  And you love flying.  Why would you give that up?”

“I love you.”

Rodney’s throat closed up.  John said those three little words with such calm matter-of-factness it was like—like it was a fact of life.  Something Rodney should already know.  The sky is blue, Rodney is a genius . . . and John loves Rodney.  He swallowed hard, licked his lips.  His voice squeaked out, “You what?”

John stepped forward, into Rodney’s personal space.  His hands slid down Rodney’s arms to wrap around his hands, lacing their fingers together.

Rodney couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see anything but the brilliant green of John’s eyes as they focused solely on him.

John repeated, “I love you, Rodney.  I’m sorry I’ve been so stupid.  I wasn’t expecting to see General O’Neill, wasn’t expecting to have to tell you that way.  I was going to tell you about—about everything, I was.  I just—I didn’t want to ruin the evening.  Things,” John made a face, “things didn’t work out how I’d planned.  They never do, it seems, but maybe it’s better this way.  It took talking with an old friend of mine to get me to realize there really wasn’t a choice.  There was never a choice.  It’s why I could never send that email until I decided to retire.  Flying or you . . . there’s no contest.  Rodney, I choose you.  I was an idiot back then, an idiot to throw away the chance of a future with you.  But I’m here, now, and I am all in.  Whatever the future holds, I want to see it, with you.  What do you say?”

Rodney was certain John had never said so many words to him in one sitting before, let alone have those words be about his feelings.  There was a delicious warmth spreading through him, filling him with something he’d once thought he’d never find again.  He opened his mouth to tell John that yes, he was all in too, but what came out was, “You love me?”

John stared at him then shook his head and chuckled.  “ _That’s_ what you got out of that?  I thought you were a genius,” he joked, but he looked relieved.

“I am but even you have to admit that was one hell of a curveball you just threw,” Rodney replied.

John lifted one shoulder, still holding his hands.  His voice was soft, vulnerable, as he asked, “Does that mean you’re in?  Let’s see where this thing goes?”

Rodney kissed him in answer.  He pulled back just far enough to look John in the eye and said, “I love you, John.  Promise you’re not going anywhere?”

John let go of Rodney’s hands and brought them up to cup Rodney’s face.  “I’m not going anywhere that doesn’t have you.”  John kissed him.

The sound of someone clearing their throat a few minutes later surprised them both and Rodney twisted around to see who it was.  Colonel Caldwell stood in the doorway with his hand still on the doorknob, staring at them in surprise.  Rodney had looped an arm around John’s waist at some point during the kiss, so he felt it when John tensed.

“Dr. McKay,” Caldwell said, “I, uh, I was hoping for a chance to talk to you briefly before I left but . . . maybe I’ll just call you in a couple days?”

Rodney scrambled to catch up, his brain still addled from kissing John.  Christmas Eve.  The call from Radek.  Caldwell’s surprise visit.  The rushed presentation.  Right, right, right, right, right.  He bobbed his head, hoping he looked like he knew what was going on.  He’d have to ask Radek what happened after he left the room to deal with John’s unexpected presence.  “Of course.  That—that’ll be just—just fine.  Yes.  Yes, let’s do that.”

“Okay.”  Caldwell’s gaze flicked to John but there was no flash of recognition that Rodney could see.  But John obviously recognized him.

Or recognized the uniform.  Hmm . . .

Caldwell eased past them, his aides shuffling after him.  “Thank you for your time, Dr. McKay, Dr. Zelenka.”  Oh, Radek had appeared in the doorway now, Rodney noticed absently.   “Uh, Merry Christmas.”  There was a brief awkward pause and then Caldwell and his aides turned and strode down the hall.

As soon as Caldwell had rounded the corner out of earshot, Rodney turned to Radek and demanded, “Well?”

Radek sighed and pushed his glasses up.  Rodney’s heart sank.  _No_.  Then Radek grinned and said, “He liked the simulation.”

Rodney waved a hand.  “What does that mean?  Did we get it or not?  And what does he want to talk to me about?”

“Rodney,” Radek frowned at him, “is this really what you want to be doing right now?”

“What?  Oh, right.”  Rodney turned back to John, who was now looking at him with amusement.  “Sorry.  Are you okay?”

John smiled.  “I’m good.  Guess it’s gonna take a while before I relax at the sight of a USAF uniform, though.”

Rodney smiled quickly at him then turned back to Radek.  “Still, did we get it?”

Radek sighed and shook his head.  “Yes, Rodney.  We got it.  He wants to talk to you about funding and manufacturing and such things.  Is no problem.  We already have most of it in reports.”  He leaned around Rodney and grinned.  “Is this who I think it is?  Did you finally take my advice?”

John looked at Rodney, one eyebrow raised in question.  Rodney turned red.  Oh sure, _now_ he blushed.  How embarrassing.  He flapped his free hand between them and mumbled, “John, my colleague Radek Zelenka.  Radek, John Sheppard.”

“Boyfriend,” John supplied and stuck his hand out for Radek to shake.

_Boyfriend?_ Rodney thought then hid a smile.  Yeah, that sounded right.

Radek shot Rodney a smug look and shook John’s hand.  “Pleased to meet you, John.  I would very much like to get to know someone who can successfully convince Rodney to leave lab.”

John chuckled and tugged Rodney against his side.  Rodney went willingly, still a little stunned that this had happened.  “Believe me, Radek; I know exactly what you mean.”

“Hey!” Rodney interjected, vaguely aware that he was being insulted but he couldn’t quite figure it out.  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

John kissed him and Rodney promptly forgave him for the perceived insult.

Radek nodded knowingly when they separated.  “Well, Rodney, John, I am going home.  Is late, and I have to be at mother’s for Christmas in few hours.  Was nice meeting you, John.  Good night and Merry Christmas.”

“Night, Radek,” John replied, wrapping both arms around Rodney.  “Nice to meet you.”

Rodney added, “Merry Christmas.”

He had no idea what Radek said after that—if, indeed, he said anything at all—because John’s mouth was on his again and all he could think was that this was the best Christmas he’d ever had.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

John followed Rodney’s car through the deserted streets to Rodney’s apartment building, pulling into an empty spot in the open lot while Rodney parked closer to the building, presumably in an assigned space.  He climbed out of the car and headed over to join Rodney.  The building itself was perhaps eight stories, dark brick, and several of the small balconies were decorated and lit for the holiday.  He hunched his shoulders against the cold and snow, the flakes falling harder now, and followed Rodney to the front door.

After letting them into the lobby, Rodney led him to the pair of elevators on the other side, passing empty couches, a sweeping staircase, and a large Christmas tree.  _Nice place_ , he thought.

Rodney hit the button and John glanced sidelong at Rodney as they waited in silence.  Why hadn’t Rodney said anything?  Why hadn’t he, for that matter?  John worried the inside of his cheek, trying to figure out what to do or say.  He knew things had happened rather fast back at the lab and maybe . . . maybe the drive over had given Rodney time to rethink things?

But Rodney wouldn’t invite him over just to tell him to beat it, would he?

The elevator arrived with a soft _ding_ and Rodney strode inside, John following.  Rodney stabbed a button and the doors shut. 

“Have you ever been to Seattle?” Rodney asked after a floor.

“Oh.  Uh, no.  I’ve never been.  Would love to check out the beach, though.”

Rodney glanced at him.  “I see the surfer is still in there.”

John offered a tentative smile.  “It’s been a while; there aren’t exactly a lot of opportunities to surf in the desert.”

Rodney faced forward, his arms crossed as he leaned against the side of the elevator, and John cursed inwardly, turning back to face front.  After another floor, Rodney said quietly, “Maybe you have time to go . . . now.”

“Maybe I do.”

They shared a smile as the doors opened on the sixth floor.  Rodney stepped out first, heading down the hall to the left, John a step behind.  Rodney stopped at the fourth door on the left, unlocked and went in, leaving it open for him.  John stepped inside and slowly shut the door behind him, already looking around.  Taking in Rodney’s place.

Taking in the signs of what Rodney’s life had become after they’d split.

The place looked far more lived in than his own tiny apartment just off base, back east.

He smiled a little, happy to see that some things remained the same.  Rodney still couldn’t clean up after himself.  The living room had a couch, easy chair, coffee table, TV center, and a bookcase on the one wall.  A lamp stood in between the couch and chair.  A blanket covered part of the couch cushions, as if Rodney had fallen asleep there.  A sweatshirt was draped over the back of the chair.  There were photos on the bookcase but he couldn’t see the subjects from the doorway.  The coffee table was littered with papers, a space in the middle empty.  A perfect rectangle—for the laptop John assumed Rodney had taken to Jeannie’s with him.

Rodney dropped his coat on the back of the couch and went around turning on lights, seemingly unconcerned with John’s scrutiny of his apartment.  John’s gaze slid to the small kitchen area, noting the enormous coffee machine on the counter with no small bit of amusement.  A pile of mail was spread out across the island, a coffee cup abandoned nearby.

“Are you going to stand there all night or are you going to get over here and kiss me?” Rodney interrupted his thoughts.

John’s eyes flicked to him, standing between the island and a small table, four chairs surrounding it.  Rodney lifted an eyebrow at him.  Mouth twitching, John walked over to him, stopping with a foot of space between them.  “I didn’t want to presume,” he said quietly.

Rodney rolled his eyes then reached out, grabbed a handful of John’s jacket and yanked.  John stumbled, his body crashing into Rodney’s.  He grabbed the edge of the countertop to steady himself just as Rodney pressed their mouths together.

“I thought you said you were all in,” Rodney said as the kiss ended.

John shifted, his body brushing Rodney’s.  “I did.  I am.  I just . . . you know how people say or do things in the heat of the moment, things that they may decide after a little time that they . . regret.”  He looked down but that just gave him a fine view of Rodney’s chest so he looked over, to the pile of mail on the island.

“Hey,” Rodney said softly, gripping his chin to turn John’s face back to his.  “I was angry when I first saw you standing in my lab, yes.  An emotion I was most definitely entitled to.  But then you—you said those things . . . and I realized . .” Rodney’s hand moved to cup John’s cheek, brushing his thumb along John’s cheekbone.  John’s face heated.  “I realized that was all I ever wanted.  For you to choose me.  I meant what I said back there, John.  I’m all in if you are.”

John kissed him in answer, feeling Rodney’s smile against his lips.

Rodney pulled away and took hold of the zipper on John’s jacket.  Rodney slowly tugged the zipper down then pushed it off John’s shoulders, leaning forward to press a kiss against his lips.  John rolled his shoulders, letting the jacket fall to the floor, reaching out to tug Rodney closer.  They kissed again, John teasing Rodney’s mouth open while he worked to pull Rodney’s shirt out of the waistband of his pants. 

Rodney moaned into his mouth as John slid a hand inside to cup his ass.  Rodney’s hands slid between them, fumbling at the buttons of the dress shirt John still wore, the shirt he’d borrowed from Kaleb for the pageant.  It seemed like a lifetime ago, instead of simply a few hours.  So much had happened.  So much had changed.  Then it was John’s turn to make a sound, his breath stuttering as Rodney brushed fingers through his chest hair.  A touch both familiar and yet foreign at the same time, it sent heat rushing through John’s body, settling in his core.

“So,” Rodney murmured against his lips.  “Did you want to do this standing or should we take this to bed?”

 

* * *

 

“Where are you going?”

The soft question stopped John as he started to get out of bed and he twisted around.  Rodney rubbed his eyes and John couldn’t help himself as he leaned back over for a kiss, bracing one hand on the mattress.  “I was going to see if you had anything for breakfast.  You know, surprise you and all.”

“Oh,” Rodney said, looking a little sheepish and far more awake.  He trailed his fingers down John’s cheek and John smiled softly down at him.  “Um, as sweet as that is, I highly doubt there’s anything remotely edible in the apartment.  If there is any food, it’s no doubt long past its expiration date.  I haven’t been here for a couple weeks and I really just stopped by long enough to grab my mail and change into something presentable for Caldwell.  I think my luggage is still in the car, actually.”

“Oh.”  John deflated.  Right.  Duh, he should have realized that.  “So . . . I’m guessing that’s also a no on coffee, then?”

“Most definitely.”

“Damn.”  He frowned, trying to think if he’d seen a grocery store or Starbucks or anything on his way to the apartment last night.

Rodney’s hand slid to the back of John’s neck, drawing him down for another, longer, kiss.  John let himself be distracted from thoughts of food and slid back under the covers.  When they parted for air, Rodney asked, “Hey, what time is it, anyway?”

John pushed against Rodney’s chest, lifting himself up enough to peer over at Rodney’s alarm clock.  “Almost eleven.  Huh, I guess I should have been aiming for lunch instead of breakfast.”

“Eleven?” Rodney repeated, trying to crane his head around to see the clock himself.  “Wow, I can’t believe we slept that late.”

“Well,” John responded, grinning, “to be fair, we did have a late night.”  Rodney’s eyes darkened with the memory of how they’d spent the remainder of the night before.  They kissed lazily for a while more then John, now laying on his back as Rodney rubbed his nose in his chest hair, asked, a little breathless at the touch, “So . . what’s open on Christmas?  ‘Cause I don’t know about you, but I could use something to eat.  And coffee.”

Rodney sat up straight, dismay written on his face.  “Shit, it’s Christmas, isn’t it?”

John frowned up at him, grabbing Rodney’s waist to steady him.  “Yeah . . . it’s Christmas Day.”

Rodney ran a hand over his face and swore under his breath, then climbed off John.  John immediately missed the warmth, the weight of him.  Rodney flung the covers off and got out of bed, looking around. 

John raised himself up onto his elbows and asked, “ Hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s Christmas Day!” Rodney repeated, hopping into his boxers.

“Yeah . . .” John dragged out, still not understanding.  So it was Christmas.  Not like it was any different from the other days of the year.

Rodney threw something at him.  John tugged it off his head—his borrowed dress shirt—and sighed, moving to get out of bed himself.  Apparently he wasn’t going to be getting lucky this morning.  “Jeannie’s going to kill me.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“No no no.  I promised and then I left and oh god she’s going to kill me.  The circumstances notwithstanding, of course, she’ll still blame me for ruining . . .” Rodney stopped moving, a pair of pants dangling from his hand as he stared off into the distance.  After a moment, he shook himself and looked down.  “Are these mine or yours?”

John scooted to the edge of the bed and grabbed a pant leg, inspecting it.  “Mine.  You see my boxers around?”

Rodney looked around but just then John spotted the corner of them sticking out from under the bed and snagged them.  Rodney resumed looking for his pants, his movements tinged with panic.

“Rodney, relax.  She’s not going to be mad at you.  You left for work related reasons, even if they did get you away from me at the same time.  Besides,” he shrugged as he pulled his underwear on, “if Jeannie’s gonna yell at anyone, it’ll be me.  Probably.  Again.”

“Again?”  Rodney gave him a sharp look.  “What do you mean, again?”

John started pulling his jeans on.  “How do you think I found you?  I talked to Jeannie and Kaleb, and let me tell you, she was not happy to see me.  But I think I won her over.”  He stood with a grin, his jeans hanging low off his waist, unbuttoned.  “I have a way with McKays.”

“Oh do you?” Rodney asked, his tone arch but he let John tug him into a kiss.

“Yeah, I think I do.  And we both know Madison loves me.”  John grinned.

Rodney shook his head, chuckling a little as he looped his arms around John’s waist and rested his head on his shoulder.  They stood that way for a bit then Rodney murmured, “History repeats itself.”

“How do you mean?” John asked.

“Don’t you see how similar this is to last time?  We had a good thing going, you had a secret that came out when you weren’t ready, and I walked away without letting you explain.”

John’s arms tightened, finding it suddenly hard to breathe.  So close.  He’d been so close to losing Rodney again over a stupid misunderstanding.  He dropped a kiss on Rodney’s hair and said, “This time’s different, though.  Better.”

Rodney hummed, the sound vibrating against John’s bare skin.

“Funny, too,” John added.

Rodney lifted his head, brows furrowed.

John answered the unspoken question, “I’m half naked, you’re in your underwear . . . . it’s a little funny.  But history didn’t completely repeat itself.”  He lifted a shoulder, feeling a little self-conscious.  “I came after you this time.”

“And not twenty years later.”

“Never gonna let me forget that, are you?”  But they were smiling at each other.

Rodney kissed him.  “Never.”  Another kiss then Rodney asked, “You willing to put up with Jeannie for a few more hours?  I really should try to be there.”

“Yah, alright,” John said, stealing another kiss.  “I like Jeannie . . . when she’s not yelling at me.  Although I do recommend putting on some clothes first.”

Rodney rolled his eyes and pulled away.

John laughed and buttoned his jeans.  Reaching around to grab his shirt, he added, “Mind if we make a quick stop before heading to Jeannie’s?”

 

* * *

 

If someone had told him that the love of John Sheppard’s life would be a civilian scientist who looked like he’d never once done any sort of physical exercise in his life, Evan would have laughed his ass off. 

But that was what greeted him when the door to the hotel room opened and the pair walked in.  Evan had been sitting on the bed, his phone in hand, when the door opened.  He’d just finished wishing his sister and her family a Merry Christmas.

“Haven’t the staff kicked you out yet?” Shep asked with a wide grin as he walked in.

Evan grinned back, seeing who he assumed to be McKay walking in with him.  “Nah, they like me better than you.”

“Everyone likes me.  I’m charming.”

McKay scoffed and Shep gave him a wounded look.  McKay rolled his eyes then took a step forward and stuck out his hand.  “Apparently I’m the only one with manners in this group which is truly terrifying, let me tell you.  Dr. Rodney McKay.  I assume I have you to thank for the fact that Sheppard made his way to Seattle in the first place?”

Evan stood and took the scientist’s hand, noting the surprisingly firm grip.  He mentally adjusted his initial assessment of the man.  “Major Evan Lorne.  Nice to finally meet you.  And, yes.  Shep gets stuck in his own head sometimes, needs someone to kick his ass.  I provide that service in our friendship although I’m not sure what I get out of it,” he added with a grin at his friend.  Shep just rolled his eyes.

McKay studied him, then glanced at Shep and nodded.  “Yes, I can see how he’d need a friend like that.”

“Hey!” Shep interjected.  “Right here.”

Evan grinned.  “So, Shep, not that I’m not happy to see you but isn’t there somewhere else you’d rather be?  You know?”  He tipped his head in McKay’s direction.  He honestly hadn’t expected Shep to come back for a few days, once he’d managed to actually talk McKay into taking him back.

Shep rubbed the back of his neck.  “Ah, yeah . . . about that.  Uh, so, look, since you’ve given up Christmas Day with your sister . . . . um, how about joining us for dinner at Jeannie’s?”

Evan blinked.  Well that was unexpected.  “You sure about that?  I mean, she barely knows me.  And clearly won’t be expecting me.  Is she even expecting you two to show up?”

McKay put in, “She’ll welcome you like it’s been planned all along.  Seriously, she’s probably still hoping for us to put in an appearance and . . . well, John wants you to come.”

“I’d feel like an ass if I left you alone when you came all the way up here to see me,” Sheppard added.

“What a heartfelt invitation,” Evan teased, even as he reached for his coat.  “I’m not going to say no to a home cooked Christmas dinner, as long as you’re sure I’ll be welcome.”

“Trust me,” McKay muttered as they left the hotel room, “she’ll be thrilled to have someone else to play matchmaker with.”

Sheppard chuckled.

Evan smiled to himself as they headed downstairs.  It was like a weight had lifted from his friend’s shoulders, thanks to McKay.  Not who he’d thought his friend would pick, but there was no sense arguing with a person’s heart.  And if the looks and smiles the two kept exchanging, he had no questions about how they’d spent last night.

As Sheppard reached out to take McKay’s hand in his, Evan made a mental note to get another room for the night.

 

* * *

 

Madison sat on the floor in front of the tree and sniffled.  Then hastily looked around to make sure Mommy hadn’t heard.  She wasn’t supposed to be sad on Christmas.  Christmas was her favorite holiday, after her birthday.  Christmas was supposed to be the bestest day ever and it would have been.  Should have been.

But Uncle Mer had left yesterday without saying goodbye.

And Mommy said that Colonel John might not come over, either.

So much for bestest day ever.

Madison looked around at the gifts she’d gotten.  At the candies and chocolates and little goodies spilling out of her stocking.  Everything on her list.  She should have been happy.  Maddie reached out and tugged a box containing science experiments into her lap.

Her lower lip wobbled.

She’d gotten _almost_ everything on her list. ~~~~

Maybe Santa hadn’t gotten her last wish?  But she’d told him in person, so he had to have gotten it.  Had to have known what she wanted.  Maybe he just couldn’t do it?  Maybe there wasn’t enough Christmas magic for her wish.

“Madison,” Mommy called.  “Time for dinner.  Come and sit down!”

“Coming!” Madison called back, setting the box aside.

She stood and studied the tree, her gaze alighting on the star at the very top.

Maybe . . . .

Maddie scrunched her eyes closed tight, as tight as she could, and _wished_.  She wished hard on that Christmas star, with all of her heart, for one more Christmas wish.  One more Christmas miracle.

The doorbell rang.

Maddie’s eyes popped open and she spun around, eyes wide.  Had she really heard that?  “MOOOM, someone’s at the door!”

“I’m a bit busy at the moment!” Mommy called from the kitchen.

“I got it,” Daddy replied.

Madison climbed onto the couch, knelt on the cushions, and leaned on the back to see around the corner as Daddy headed for the door.  Had it worked?  Could it work, just like that?”

She leaned further forward as Daddy opened the door.  Daddy said something but she wasn’t listening.  Daddy was in the way.  She frowned in frustration.  Was it Colonel John and Uncle Mer?  Madison draped herself half off the back of the couch, trying to see around her dad’s back.

Then Daddy turned around and she gasped, her little hands flying up to cover her mouth.

Daddy led Colonel John, Uncle Mer, and another man into the living room.  Colonel John saw her on the couch and smiled at her.  “Jean, hun,” Daddy called, “Come on out here!” 

“Hey, kiddo,” Colonel John said, elbowing Uncle Mer in the side.

Uncle Mer’s head jerked.  “What?”  Colonel John tipped his head towards her, still smiling.  Uncle Mer turned then blinked.  “Oh.  Hi, Madison.  Uh . . . Merry Christmas?”

Madison grinned and twisted to look back up at the tree.  At the Christmas star glittering at the top that had granted her wish.  “ _It worked_ ,” she whispered.

Mommy came out then, Maddie heard her gasp and turned back around.  Mommy rushed forward, hugging first Uncle Mer, then Colonel John.  Then she stepped back, gave them a huge smile, and hugged them both at the same time.  Daddy stood off to the side, grinning.  “You’re here!  Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here!  I didn’t think—” Mommy pulled back and eyed them.  Madison shrunk back a little on the couch—she knew that look.  The look that told her Mommy was about to ask her to tell the truth, even though she already knew it.  “Are we good?  Are you two—?”

Colonel John nodded.  “Yeah.  All good.”

“So . . . you talked?  Like, actually talked?  No walking away out of stubbornness?”

Uncle Mer made a noise and said, “Only because he wouldn’t let go of my arm.”

“I needed you to listen to me and you were being frustrating.”

“My default setting.  You should know that.”

“Guys,” the other man said with a sigh.  “Is this really the time?”

Colonel John and Uncle Mer looked at each other then Uncle Mer kissed Colonel John.  Maddie’s cheeks hurt from smiling so widely.

Mommy looked at Daddy then said, “Well, the food’s done, so come on in.  Grab a drink and a plate.  Evan, it’s good to see you; you’re more than welcome at our table.”

Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Mer, and Colonel John headed into the kitchen but the man she didn’t know didn’t.  He looked at her then at the others before walking over to where she still knelt on the couch.

Madison studied him.  She’d never met him before.  Mommy and Daddy acted like they knew him, like he was supposed to be here.  And he’d shown up with Colonel John and Uncle Mer just as she made her wish . . . Her eyes widened.

She whispered, “Santa?”

His eyes widened but then he chuckled.  “No, sorry, kid.”

“But—but the wish—and . . . .” Madison slumped on the couch.  She’d been so sure.

The man leaned against the back of the couch.  “A wish?”

She nodded.

“A wish about John and your uncle, right?”

Another nod.

“Uh huh.”  He looked around the room, then bent down a bit and asked, “So listen . . . can you keep a secret?”

Madison nodded again, curiosity sparking.

He eyed her.  “Are you sure?”

“I’m good at keeping secrets.”

He looked around again and this time, she did, too, wondering what he was looking for.  Mommy and Daddy were talking with Colonel John and Uncle Mer.  The man motioned for her to come closer so she did.  He lowered his voice and said quietly, for her ears only, “Santa asked me for help.”

She gasped and said in a high-pitched voice, “ _You know_ —”  She cut herself off then whispered through her fingers, “You know Santa?”

He nodded.  “I do.”

“How?”

“Well, I’m sure you know that Santa gives presents to all the good boys and girls around the world, right?  But that’s a lot of work for one guy.  And sometimes someone asks for something that’s not a toy or clothes.  Santa never wants someone to not get their Christmas wish so when something comes along that’s a just a bit much for Santa to handle on his own, he asks for help.  Santa knew that I was friends with John so he asked me to help out with your wish.  Sorry it’s a little late but people can be stubborn.”  He leaned in again and said, “Don’t tell anyone, okay?  A little secret between you, me and Santa.”

Madison’s eyes were wide above her open mouth.  He knew Santa.  Santa worked especially hard on her wish!  Her head bobbed in agreement.  “I won’t tell no one, mister, promise!”

“Good.  I knew I could count on you.”  He winked at her and added, “By the way, call me Evan.”

“I’m Madison.”

Evan shook her hand.  “It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Madison.”

She giggled.

“Hey, what’s so funny over here?” Colonel John asked, joining them.

“Nothing,” Evan said, straightening.  He winked at her and she giggled again.

“Uh huh,” Colonel John said, an eyebrow raised as he looked between them.  He handed a bottle to Evan.  “Beer?”

“Thanks.”

“Welcome.  So, Maddie, how’s your Christmas going?”

“It’s the best!  Wanna see what I got?”

Colonel John chuckled.  “Maybe later, kiddo.  Let’s go eat and you can show me after dinner, yeah?”

“Okay.”  She climbed off the couch, walked around to the back and took hold of Colonel John’s and Evan’s hands.  The three of them headed for the kitchen, their hands linked.

 

* * *

 

Rodney found his sister still in the kitchen, finishing clean up.  He grabbed another beer out of the fridge then leaned against the counter.  “Hey,” he said quietly, “so, um . . . about what I said last night.”

Jeannie shook her head as she opened a cupboard door to take out a bin of Tupperware lids.  “Don’t worry about it.  We both said some pretty awful things but we’re siblings.  We’re supposed to fight.”

Rodney fiddled with the bottle.  “So . . . you’re not mad at me?  For what I said or . . for leaving?”

A lid clicked into place and she turned to him.  “Meredith, you are a difficult person on your best day.  I honestly don’t know what was going through your head last night but I could see the potential between the two of you and it frustrated me that you were going to give up on that without a fight.  That’s why I kept meddling; why I gave him your address.  And I know that Radek’s call was a convenient excuse to get away from me but I don’t approve of you up and ditching your niece without saying goodbye.”  Jeannie kissed his cheek and added, “That being said, I’m glad you came today.  Wouldn’t be Christmas without the whole family here.”

Rodney relaxed, smiling at his sister.  He was relieved that the people in his life could figure out what he meant to say when he couldn’t, or couldn’t form complete sentences.  “Thanks, sis.”

“Anytime.”  She went back to putting leftovers in containers.  “By the way, I reserve the right to tease the two of you mercilessly.”

Rodney sighed, but it was the sigh of the long-suffering sibling.  “I figured as much.”

 

* * *

 

Jeannie smiled to herself from where she stood by the front window.  This—this was what Christmas was all about.

John was sitting on the floor with Madison, patiently letting her show him every single present she’d gotten from Mommy and Daddy or from Santa Claus.  Meredith sat on the couch behind him, doing something on his phone.  As she watched, John reached a hand behind him and Meredith took it without looking up, lacing their fingers together.

Kaleb sat on the other end of the couch, talking to Evan who sat in the chair.  Every now and then John would chime in on the sports talk before returning his attention to her daughter.  She absolutely adored John and Jeannie had the feeling Evan would be getting the “uncle” moniker soon.  Now, whether that would be before or after John gained it himself remained to be seen.

Her smile widened.  Maddie would be an adorable flower girl.

“Mommy?”

She started.  “Yeah?”

Maddie leaned around John and asked, “Can I have a cookie?”

Jeannie smiled.  “Sure, honey.  Why don’t you bring the container out so you can share?”

“Okay!”  Her daughter ran into the kitchen.

John used Mer’s leg to hoist himself up and onto the couch next to him with a groan.

“You okay?” Mer asked.

John nodded, his mouth tight.  “Fine.  Just a little too old to be sitting on the floor like that.”

“Uh huh, and the fact that you’re still healing from the crash has nothing to do with it.”

John shot her brother a pointed look as he replied, “Didn’t bother me last night, now did it?”

Meredith went bright red and Jeannie laughed softly.  Madison ran back into the room with the container of Christmas cookies and shoved her way onto the couch between John and Kaleb.  She was pretty sure Madison would have sat between John and Meredith if she could have found even the slightest bit of room.

Kaleb caught her eye across the room and patted his thigh with a raised eyebrow.  Jeannie picked her way through Maddie’s presents and settled on her husband’s lap, leaning in for a kiss.  “Merry Christmas, baby,” Kaleb murmured.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Jeannie replied.

 

* * *

 

 

Rodney wondered how much longer he had to stay before it was socially acceptable to drag John away.  Madison had shown both him and John all of her presents, in great detail.  He’d mended things with his sister.  He’d even had a small amount of conversation with John’s friend.  Rodney was more than ready to go.  He had some unfinished business with John.

Although . . . Rodney frowned . . . Evan’s presence would be a hindrance.  Hmm.  Maybe Jeannie would let Evan stay here while he and John went back to the hotel?  They could pick him up tomorrow, right?

John tapped his shoulder and Rodney tilted his head back to look up at him.  “Hey, wanna get out of here?”

“God, yes,” Rodney said, heartfelt.  “I’ve had about enough of family time to last me a long while.”

“Cool.”  John kissed his nose and said, “Grab your coat and let’s say our goodbyes.”

It was only as he was enduring yet another hug by his sister that he realized Lorne wasn’t wearing his coat.  He caught John’s eye and waved in Lorne’s direction. 

John leaned over to murmur in his ear, “Lorne’s staying here tonight.  Jeannie offered and this way he doesn’t have to pay for another room.”  As John’s hand slid down to cup Rodney’s backside, eliciting an answering heat in Rodney’s cheeks, Rodney knew John was having the same thoughts he was.  And that was perfectly fine with him.

“Good,” Rodney murmured back, nipping John’s ear lightly.

John breathed in sharply then pulled back and said loudly, “Thanks for everything, Jeannie, Kaleb.  Merry Christmas.”

Kaleb grinned.  “Merry Christmas, John, Rodney.  Say bye before you head back to Seattle, okay?”

John nodded.  “We will.  Night.”

They headed for the door but Jeannie suddenly called out, “Oh wait! Wait wait wait, just a second . . .”

Rodney crossed his arms, resisting the urge to tap his foot on the floor.

Jeannie hurried over and held out a large gift bag.  John took it warily, peering inside.  Jeannie smiled.  “Your presents.  For both of you.”

John looked up, blinked.  “You—you got me a Christmas present?”

Rodney moved closer, resting a hand on John’s lower back.  He didn’t like the sound of John’s voice.  Like he really didn’t expect it.  Like he couldn’t imagine that she would have gotten John a present.

Jeannie gave Rodney a surprised look herself and said, “Well, of course, John.  You’re family now.  And family gets presents.  It’s nothing much, since I don’t really know what your interests are but I hope you like it.  Next year’s will be better, I promise.”

John looked down into the bag again and cleared his throat.  “That’s, uh . . . I—I didn’t,” he huffed a laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, and leaned into Rodney a bit.  “Thanks, Jeannie.”

“You’re welcome.”  She leaned in to kiss his cheek, then Rodney’s, before making a shooing motion.  “Now go on.  We’ll see you tomorrow, I’m sure.”

“Maybe,” Rodney replied, steering John around and out the door.

He ended up driving back to the hotel, John staring absently out the window.  Rodney glanced at him occasionally, wondering if Jeannie’s little surprise had derailed their plans.  John remained silent as he parked, as they headed up to the room.  Rodney was trying to figure out what to say but it turned out he didn’t need to.

As soon as the door shut, John had him pressed up against it, the gift bag forgotten on the floor.  When John let him breathe, Rodney managed to ask, “You sure?”

John pressed his mouth to Rodney’s jaw, his neck, his nose, then found his mouth again.  “Absolutely,” he promised.

That was good enough for him.  He kissed John back, fumbling to take their clothes off at the same time.  Just kissing John lit a fire inside him, a fire that only feeling John’s naked body on his could quench.  He pushed against John's chest, walking John backwards to the bed.

As John tumbled Rodney onto the mattress, he couldn’t help but say, “Best Christmas ever.”

John laughed and kissed him.

Rodney ran a hand down John’s back, feeling the muscles flex.  John trailed kisses along his jaw.  “I’m right, you know,” Rodney breathed, his breath hitching.  “Pretty sure this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”

“Stop talking,” John mumbled against his skin.

Rodney retorted, “Make me,” but it was spoiled by the little gasp he made as John’s fingers tweaked his nipple through his shirt.

Oh yeah.  Nothing could make this day better.

Well . . .

No.  They’d gotten the contract—screw you, Carter!—he’d appeased his sister, and he had John.

He had John in his life, in his arms, and soon . . . in his apartment.  Once the discharge officially went through, John would move to Seattle.  He hadn’t asked; he somehow knew that John would be okay with that.  He’d have to make sure that John found something to do there, though.  But they could figure that out later.  Right now . . .

Right now . . . “I love you, John,” Rodney murmured.  “Merry Christmas.”

John pulled back to look down at him, love shining amongst the lust in his brilliant green eyes.  “I love you, Rodney.  Merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I decided to rewrite the entire chapter. Anyway, hope you like it and thanks to all for coming along for the ride.


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